


Blessed Be His Child

by Dow, kijikun



Series: Blessed [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dow/pseuds/Dow, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun
Summary: Gabriel's lesson might be over but Dean's and Castiel's is just beginning
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley/Anna Milton, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Michael (Supernatural), OMC/OMC, OMC/OMC/OFC
Series: Blessed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014633
Comments: 20
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue: Foundlings and Empty Nests

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue was written solely by Dow/ameonna1.
> 
> Chapters 1-8 of this fic were originally written between 2010-2012 and posted to LJ. Part 9 was written in 2012 but has never been posted. 
> 
> Summary: Gabriel isn't sure what lesson he's supposed to be learing by taking care of the 'experimental' fledgling but he's almost sure he doesn't like it.

**Prologue: Foundlings and Empty Nests**

Gabriel flies low but swiftly, he knows he shouldn’t be passing time since his Father called him, but he likes to watch the rippling changes of the Earth as he moves over it. He hears laughter first and grins, his Father doesn’t usually have guests and his brothers are always so serious that it’s a refreshing surprise. Then he stops.  
  
His Father is there, waiting on the mountaintops as He said He would be in the shape of a roiling storm but there, running around on the mountain pell-mell through the mists is a little slip of shadow. Gabriel can just make out the wings on it as it squeals past in laughter, the storm rumbling in joy around it.  
  
“Gabriel,” the storm thunders and the Archangel dips his head in greeting, “Good, I have been waiting. I have a job for you.”  
  
“Of course, Father. Where am I off to this time?”  
  
“Off?” The storm hums and scoops the tiny laughing shape into itself, “No, no Gabriel it is not a message. I need you to train a fledgling. This fledgling.”  
  
The storm resolves itself into the barest form of a person, the giggling shape, no; angel, in what would be its arms.  
  
“Ah,” Gabriel blinks at the impression of wide, curious eyes staring at him out of the wisps of time and space that make up all angels, “It’s um, awfully small.”  
  
“He will grow. He is an experiment, to raise one of our own. Like a human child. Here.”  
  
Gabriel balks only for a moment as the little thing is passed to him and it makes a noise that’s sort of like chiming bells as he wraps his arms around it.  
  
“Good, I believe that means he likes you.”  
  
“Good,” Gabriel echoes, staring at the thing in his arms.  
  
It’s a baby, well, sort of.  
  
“I am to train him?”  
  
“Yes, all the usual. Flight, fighting, beliefs. He should grow rather quickly.”  
  
“How quickly?”  
  
“A number of years I should think.”  
  
Years.  
  
“Just keep him out of trouble. I’d have Michael do it but I don’t think he has the temperament and I’m afraid the Morningstar would just lose him somewhere. I trust you.”  
  
Which was all well and good, but right now Gabriel wasn’t sure if he trusted _himself_ with a… baby angel.  
  
“Erm, what I am I to call him?”  
  
“I have named him Castiel.”  
  
“Castiel?”  
  
The little thing looks up and coos.

  
“What is _that_?”  
  
Gabriel was frowning as he landed among his brothers. The baby, thing, angel, _Castiel_ had the most annoying habit of clinging and Gabriel hadn’t been able to put him down since his Father had handed him over. He shrieked every time he tried and just clung harder. Gabriel would end up losing a wing if he tried to pry him off.  
  
The archangel sighed and looked at where the Morningstar was lounging, light glittering about his form.  
  
“He is Castiel. Our new brother.”  
  
“You mean half of a new brother.” The Morningstar stands and frowns and then pokes Castiel who immediately goes still, “maybe a fourth. Why is he so small?”  
  
“He’s an experiment. I am to… raise him.”  
  
The Morningstar laughs, long and loud. A crowd of his brothers are gathering now and Castiel has begun to tremble.  
  
“Raise? Are you to teach him to walk and talk as well?”  
  
“I’m not sure,” Gabriel growls, shifting Castiel on his hip, he is starting to make noises now, fear noises as more of his brothers arrive to stare and it is making Gabriel more uncomfortable by the second.  
  
“Look, Father has left him in my care and I am to train him as any other fledgling.”  
  
Gabriel is talking over whimpers and tiny snuffles but it is when Michael appears in a flash of fire that Castiel starts to quite earnestly and loudly cry. Gabriel is shocked but secretly pleased as his brothers eyes widen and they all shuffle back.  
  
“Is it crying?” Uriel asks, partially in disgust and curiosity.  
  
“Yes, I think so,” Gabriel has to raise his voice to be heard.  
  
“Well, take it away!” Anael shouts as the noise reaches an alarming decibel.  
  
Gabriel clutches his burden to him and shoots up, out into the darkness.

  
“What is wrong with you!?”  
  
He floats in space, Earth a glittering blue gem in the distance, holding a still sniffling Castiel aloft by one of his wings.  
  
“Too many!” The little thing shrieks and Gabriel sighs.  
  
At least it can talk, thank goodness.  
  
“They’re your brothers; there are a lot of them.”  
  
“Big!”  
  
“They’re your _big_ brothers!”  
  
Castiel whimpers when he shouts and Gabriel is having quite enough of the strange glass twisting thing his form does every time that happens.  
  
“Gabriel… Please?”  
  
He sighs again, and releases Castiel who is almost immediately back on him, tiny hands grasping at his wings or whatever else they can get a hold of and snuggling into him. Gabriel still isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of this. Is it a test? To see how long he can take it before he snaps? Or is it something else? His Father was terribly vague.  
  
“Well,” Gabriel concedes, “There are a rather _lot_ of them, and they _are_ rather big and loud and occasionally stupid.”  
  
He rubs a hand over Castiel’s head, smiling when the wisps of shadow that adorn him stay curled up and messy.  
  
Very slowly, Castiel smiles back.

  
He hasn’t seen any of his brothers for weeks now, so it’s a bit of a surprise when Anael drops out of the sky and approaches him as carefully as if he possessed a chimera.  
  
Castiel is curled up in a bed of heather and clover, _asleep_ , the thing takes _naps_. Naps that Gabriel has to wait through or risk him waking up in the middle of his business and Castiel is fiercely angry if he gets woken up before he’s finished.  
  
“What is it doing?” Anael hisses, still off a good few feet.  
  
Gabriel rolls his eyes and lays down in the field he claimed. He is _exhausted_ , a near impossibility, but he is and he aches and he’s cranky and...  
  
“What does it look like Anael?” Gabriel whispers, “He’s taking a nap.”  
  
Anael steps forward, still wary and sits rather primly next to Gabriel, on the side farthest away from Castiel.  
  
“He takes naps?”  
  
Gabriel nods, “Yes, and he gets bored and he wants to play and see Father and see ducks and see people and chase clouds but he can’t fly very well so the idiot just jumps off of things and thinks it’s fun when I have to drop everything I’m doing to go catch him.”  
  
Anael is laughing, politely behind his hand but Gabriel still groans and rolls over.  
  
“It is not funny.”  
  
“You know, the Morningstar is telling everyone that you’re being punished.”  
  
“I probably am. It’s probably because of that thing with the sheep and the whores.”  
  
“No, that was more the Metatron’s fault than yours.”  
  
“It was my idea.”  
  
“Well…” Anael tilted his head just as the snuffling sounds and the crush of grass began.  
  
“Make it stop…” Gabriel whined.  
  
“Stop being so melodramatic,” Anael tutted, “Come here, it’s alright.”  
  
Gabriel frowns and looks at Castiel who is sitting up in his bed of heather, not quite awake but eyeing Anael suspiciously, his wings all fluffed up.  
  
“Come on then, Anael is your brother. He isn’t going to do anything terrible.”  
  
That seems to make it okay then. Castiel totters over, crawls over Gabriel’s prone form, and sits himself in front of Anael. He lets himself be inspected, his wings looked at and his shadows smoothed down; Gabriel is just pleased that he’s letting another being beside him and their Father _touch_ him. Then comes the inevitable question,  
  
“Play?”  
  
“Good luck,” Gabriel grumbles ignoring the look Anael shoots him.  
  
“Play what, little one?”  
  
“Chases!”  
  
Anael blinks as Castiel pushes himself to his feet.  
  
“Chases? What’s ‘chases’?”  
  
“It’s simple; he wants you to chase him.”  
  
“Oh, I see. Oh!”  
  
Gabriel stays lounging in the grass during the six hours it takes Anael to finally catch him.

  
Castiel can’t fight and he can’t fly but he listens. Gabriel finds out very, very quickly that the little angel listens to anything and everything, even the things he isn’t supposed to be. He will also repeat them on command, a perfect little parrot. The Morningstar is suddenly a lot quieter.

  
He also is starting to get a bit spoiled.  
  
Gabriel notices this as Castiel occupies himself with a set of stones that Gabriel has fashioned into a family of three and a dog for him. Somewhere along the line he’d acquired a lion made of gold, a soapstone giraffe, as well as a horse and a bear made of brass. Since that morning though, he has also acquired a dozen little clay birds and a wooden boat that Gabriel has never seen before.  
  
He is also wearing a crown of woven flowers that Gabriel _knows_ came from Anael, he just can’t prove it.  
  
“Castiel, where did you get those birds?”  
  
“The Morningstar made them.”  
  
What.  
  
“And the boat?”  
  
“Barachiel says it will float if I put it in water. I can put Michael’s lion in it.”  
  
Oh goodness.

  
Castiel learns. Gabriel shows him how to fly. How to unfurl tiny wings of shadow and light and just dive, not fall. Castiel flies, and then _he_ chases Gabriel up mountains and through canyons. He flies with birds and hides in tornados. He flies into thunderstorms and pesters Raphael until the older angel drives him out with lightning. He flies little gifts to their Father. He flies down under the ocean and chases fish with Barachiel. He flies up to the highest point on Earth to watch the sunrise with the Morningstar with his golden lion in his lap.  
  
Gradually, he flies away from Gabriel.

  
He stops taking naps, and he stops wanting to play. Gabriel can’t remember the day when he comes across the scattering of toys, of clay birds and metal animals, but he remembers the feeling of loss. The sudden, strange feeling of emptiness and he fears that this was what his Father had been trying to teach him.

  
When Castiel is big enough he fights. He fights even when Gabriel doesn’t want him to. Castiel fights even when _Gabriel_ doesn’t want to. He taught his fledgling to fly, to fight, and to sing the praises of their Father. He didn’t teach him doubt, or loss, or all the terrible things that the angels pretend they don’t feel. Gabriel keeps all of that for himself.  
  
The Morningstar falls.  
  
Their Father disappears.  
  
The Metatron falls silent.  
  
War comes and goes and comes.  
  
Castiel is still fighting when Gabriel slips out of heaven with nothing but his grace and the gaping roil of emotion that he’s been hiding for years.

  
Life goes on, Gabriel forgets, he learns, he becomes something else. Something new, something stronger, something vindictive, and then two stupid humans come along and it all finally breaks like a pane of glass.  
  
  
Gabriel is wet; he’d be cold if he wasn’t what he was. He’s lying on the floor of a warehouse staring at old crossbeams and a dripping ceiling. He’s not sure how much time has passed since laughter and holy oil and shame. He closes his eyes when he hears footsteps, whoever it is, he doesn’t want to be bothered. He’ll turn them into ice cream or paper stars or he’ll stick them in a poorly written romance novel and leave them in a used bookstore. He’ll forget…  
  
“Gabriel…”  
  
Familiar feeling, familiar pain, wrong voice, wrong eyes, but Gabriel can see the wisps of shadow that follow the angel. Castiel stands above him, staring down with his head tilted. Gabriel can’t feel anything but hurt and confusion. He isn’t sure what belongs to him anymore.  
  
Castiel has already learned all the things that Gabriel tried to hide from him. Those humans with their smiles and affection and blind stubborn hope have gotten under his skin and in his shadows and its all wrong... Slowly, Castiel crouches and smoothes a hand over Gabriel’s cheek, silent and waiting until,  
  
“Why did you leave?”  
  
There are a hundred answers he could give. A thousand reasons why Gabriel was just too sick to watch it time and time again. Too sick to watch the Morningstar scream obscenities, to see the stony unchanging face of Michael, to see Castiel, his Castiel again with sword and spear. But he’s broken and raw and those stupid humans have jammed their sticky fingers into everything he was trying to protect so all that comes out is,  
  
“You didn’t need me anymore.”  
  
The truth burns his throat and he curls away from Castiel, hiding his face against the floor, and jamming his hands into his pockets. He hears the barest of noises and lets out a breath when Castiel wraps his arms around him, pulling him from the rough and wet and just holding him, just letting him _rest_.  
  
“I need you now.”  
  
Castiel is shaking; he’s trembling in fear for his humans and for all humans. He’s scared for the birds, the fish, and his brothers. He’s scared for himself and for Father and for Gabriel.  
  
Gabriel reacts like he always has; he gathers his fledgling to him and shoots up, out into the darkness. 

  
When they both have stopped shaking and sniveling and generally acting like silly things, Castiel looks up at Gabriel and sighs,  
  
“Gabriel… Please?”  
  
Slowly, Gabriel lets out an answering sigh and digs around in his pocket until he finds the familiar battered shape of a lion.  
  
It’s the first time he’s seen anything close to joy pass over Castiel’s features since this whole rotten business has started.  
  
“Of course,” Gabriel breathes, finally grinning.  
  
Very slowly, Castiel smiles back.


	2. Chapter One: What is and What Should Never Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel's lesson might be over but Dean's and Castiel's is just beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betas: and 
> 
> Spoilers: Up to 5x10

**Chapter One: What is and What Should Never Be**

_**The righteous man leads a blameless life; blessed are his children after him. ~ Proverbs 20:7** _

When he promised Castiel his help, Gabriel hadn't said anything about behaving or quitting being a Trickster, so here he is grinning and chewing on a Snickers bar as he stands in the corner of a young man's room. _Former_ young man's room, to be exact.

The young man in question is the star of the football team and most popular boy in school. He also has a nasty habit of spreading rumors about girls that won't fuck him, not to mention what he says about _boys_ that won't fuck him. Normally he wouldn't care about such things, but one of the girls worked at her mother's diner and made the best chocolate pie in the state. Chocolate pie which she hadn't made for the last week because she was so upset.

And while this little punishment Gabriel's decided on isn't completely poetic or ironic in the Alanis Morissette sense, Gabriel is quite pleased with himself. He takes another bite of candy, and watches as the boy looks at himself in the mirror. He makes a high pitched horrified sound as Gabriel laughs.

"What’s the matter, Alex? I thought you liked girls with big chests?" Gabriel asks.

The kid spins around gaping at him. Gabriel snaps his fingers before the boy - now a girl - starts to scream. Alex is moving his mouth but no sound is coming out. Perfect.

"None of that now, Alexandria. Now hurry and get dressed. You don't want to be late for school," Gabriel tells him. He isn't going to leave the kid like this forever. Just for a few days and a few object lessons then poof everything back the way it was, except that Alex would be a little wiser and more empathic than he had been.

The human has that pitiful begging, __please have mercy__ look on his face and Gabriel rolls his eyes. He finishes off the rest of his candy bar, then starts to deliver a final zinger before sitting back and watching the show when he hears Castiel call him.

He registers the panic before he registers Castiel's words. _Gabriel, I need you. Something's happened - Dean was on a hunt and..._ The words are rushed, and Gabriel shoves down the instinctive fear he's felt since the first day Castiel was old enough to _truly_ fight.

Gabriel unfurls his wings and shoots off to where Castiel is without hesitation - no sigils and signs and hex bags in the world could hide his fledgling from him. It's another one of the horrid little motels the Winchesters seem to have a sad addiction to, and Gabriel takes some comfort in that. He isn't landing in the middle of a battle with all parties being varying degrees of alive. Gabriel enters the motel room expecting to find Dean or Sam injured. He expects blood. He even expects it to be bad.

Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord, doesn't expect at all what he finds.

"Gabriel," Castiel says in pure relief. There's still a slight bit of panic in his eyes and voice.

The motel room looks like a tiny tornado has hit it. On the walls and curtains there are splatters on what looks like liquid sliver. Castiel is holding --

Castiel is holding --

"What is that?" Gabriel demands. He knows what it is though. There is only one thing that Castiel __could__ be holding.

The small form in Castiel's arms, clinging, is so familiar it hurts.

Castiel looks torn for a moment before he says, "She's a baby," there's a note to his voice, as if challenging Gabriel to deny it or dare say that what he's holding is something else.

"I can see that," clearly Gabriel should have taught Castiel about rhetorical questions.

The baby reminds Gabriel of Castiel - shadow, light, and space - but the wings are different. The tiny wings shimmer and move like liquid metal, occasionally losing a drop onto the faded motel carpet. He gets the impression of sleepy eyes, peering at him curiously.

The baby squirms in Castiel's arms, and Castiel holds her a little tighter. His hand ghosts over baby, soothing her. He gives Gabriel a wide-eyed look.

Dean is sitting on one of the beds rubbing his eyes. "I still don't know why we need __him__ ," he complains.

"The baby," Castiel says, slowly, as if he's picking each word carefully and weighing it against others, "when she shifted from human to angel form blinded him. It did not affect me."

"I'm fine," Dean, protests, shaking his head and blinking, "It was just like looking right at the sun for too long. I was more worried I'd drop her, it was like holding static electricity."

Gabriel is fairly certain he's missed something rather important. Or someone here is touched in the head.

"Where did the baby come from?" he asks carefully, perhaps a little sharply. He can see Castiel clearly in the child, but there are other bits that he can't quite --

The baby's form shimmers brightly, and then Castiel is holding what looks like a normal twelve month old human baby. She whimpers softly, curling small hands into Castiel's coat. Castiel adjusts his hold on her, fingers stroking over skin and fine hair no longer shadows and liquid metal, "It's alright," Castiel whispers to the child as she squirms.

The baby flails her arms towards Dean. "Dean," she whimpers. Castiel looks slightly affronted.

"She's bossy just like you, Cas," Dean laughs, sounding calmer about all this than Gabriel feels. And that just isn't fair and Dean will pay for that somehow.

Castiel frowns in confusion. "She was fine in my arms a moment ago; I do not understand the change."

Dean stands up, still blinking, and crosses the short distance to Cas and the baby. "It's just the way babies are. Sammy was like that," Dean assures Castiel. Dean's hand brushes absently over the back of Castiel's neck before he holds his hands out for the baby. She quickly latches on to Dean, settling comfortable into the elder Winchesters' arms.

 _Oh fuck_.

"What did you do?" Gabriel demands, eyes fixed on Dean. He'd know Dean had put his sticky little fingers all over Castiel, had lain with him... "What did you do, you stupid human?"

Dean's head rears up. "I didn't do _shit_!"

"It seems we inadvertently rescued a local fertility goddess in our efforts to drive out a group of demons that were terrorizing this town..." Castiel says quickly. He places a hand on Gabriel's arm, eyes pleading with Gabriel to calm down and listen.

"Fertility goddess?" Gabriel interrupts, well, that explains a whole lot. He lets the anger seep out of him. There were rituals that were best not thought about...and it was far better if this was an outside influence.

"Yeah," Dean says, "Pink hair, kinda bubbly..."

Gabriel grins, "Prudence! I know her. Nice gal, I've partied with her a few times. She can do this thing with her tongues you wouldn’t believe…"

Dean rolls his eyes, shifting the baby in his arms. A small head rests on his shoulder, and blue eyes watch Gabriel. "The point is, for some reason she decided to reward us for our 'great service' to her. And then poof, I'm holding a baby."

Newly made, Gabriel thinks. He frowns, eyes narrowing.

Castiel tenses, "Gabriel... Please..."

Gabriel isn't sure what he's asking but forces a smile, "Let me see her."

Dean narrows his eyes slightly, putting a protective hand on the baby's back. "Why?"

 _Good boy,_ Gabriel thinks, _I'd have to call you a fool if you trusted me so quickly._ "I'm not going to hurt her," Gabriel tells him.

"Dean," Castiel says softly touching Dean's arm, "It's alright."

Dean's jaw clenches and the baby stirs against his chest slightly, sleepy eyes opening again.

"Don't drop her," Dean warns finally, carefully transferring the baby into Gabriel's arms.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "I've held babies before, you moron." The baby goes easily, though she makes a sound of complaint. She peers up at him for a moment then settles herself against his shoulder, small fingers playing idly with his collar. She feels like a normal human baby would in his arms, but so had Mary's child.

He runs his fingers carefully over her head and down her back. Gabriel doesn't quite know what he's looking for until he finds it - grace, tiny and new born dwelling under her delicate human skin. He holds an impossibility.

The Nephilim had been more human than they had been angelic. A consequence of their fathers' human forms. There had been a few that had transcended that but they'd been born of love, not lust as most Neplilim had.

Gabriel ought to know, he was the one Father sent to seed war and destruction among them. But none of them were like this child.

But this child -- Gabriel lays the flat of his palm on her back. She's soft and warm, fragile. The baby's small body rises and falls as she breathes; she's fallen asleep against Gabriel's shoulder.

Dean is whispering harshly to Castiel. "Why do we need him? We can handle this. It's not permanent."

"She shouldn't shift forms in her sleep," Gabriel interrupts. "I'm not sure how to prevent her from shifting completely, and she's too young to control it herself, I'm betting."

Castiel starts to raises his hands for the baby then drops them. He fixes Gabriel with a stare, and Gabriel sighs impatiently. "This is different. This is _new_ ," Gabriel tells him. "I need to have a chat with Pru. I can see _what_ she did, but I'm pretty damn curious of the _how_."

Dean nods, "I can tell you where we saw her last. She might still be hanging around." He grins slightly, "She said something about a party she wished she could invite me to."

Gabriel rolls his eyes and Castiel makes a soft sound. Oh, yeah, Prudence hadn't made any friends with Castiel by flirting with his boyfriend. Gabriel would find all this hysterical if he wasn't holding something that by all his Father's laws should not exist. "You're her type, Deano. She likes them pretty with very little upstairs."

"Haha, cute," Dean mutters.

The sides of Castiel's mouth curve downwards, and his eyes focus sharply on Gabriel, "That is an unfair assessment of Dean," Castiel protests earnestly.

"I should have taught you to have a sense of humor," Gabriel sighs, shaking his head, "Did the kid come with a name?"

Castiel shakes his head, still frowning. But now it’s a slightly guilty looking frown, like he's just realized he's forgotten something important. It's the sort of frown he wore once when he'd misplace his little gold lion or his boat, "No, she did not. We have yet to have a chance to discern one for her."

Dean folds his arms across his chest, "She doesn't need a name."

Gabriel watches Castiel's frown change and deepen. If he were in his true form Gabriel is sure his wings would be ruffled in displeasure. Castiel swings his head around to stare at Dean. "Dean..."

"No," Dean hisses, "You name her and you'll get attached. And there's nothing to prove that..."

Oh, yeah, no, Gabriel does not want front ring seats for this fight. Maybe if he wasn't holding the kid, but he remembers what Castiel's tantrums were like and he's not interrupting this kid's nap for anything. "Where's your brother?"

Dean blinks, "Sammy?"

"No, your _other_ brother, Harvey. Yes, Sammy," Gabriel grouses.

"Store. Sent him for supplies for the kid," Dean tells him as if that makes any sense in relation to Dean not wanting to name her.

Castiel nods, and tilts his head to the side, "Dean said we would need bottles, formula, diapers..."

"Yeah, you don't need to give him the whole list, Cas. Baby stuff. It can't have changed all that too much since Sammy was this little," Dean says with a shrug,

"And don't do the angels don't eat bit. Cas already did that, but I'm not trying to find a place open at two am because missy there is hungry and screaming her head off. Sam's also getting sunglasses."

Gabriel laughs at that then shakes his head. "Take the kid. I'll go have a talk with Pru." He shifts the baby into Castiel's arms, and watches them protectively; already adoring way Castiel holds her to his chest. Gabriel swallows hard and places a hand on Castiel's shoulder, then squeezes gently. "We will talk when I return."

It is only once he leaves, and sets down in an empty parking lot near where Dean said he could find good ol' Prudence that he allows himself to really think -- _oh fuck fuck fuck._

Because this isn't good. That child shouldn't exist and there will be consequences for this, consequences he doesn't want Castiel to have to pay. Castiel is already in love with this - his child. Gabriel almost laughs. Of course he is. Castiel is so stupidly in love with Dean, of course he would love their child.

Gabriel, for the first time, wishes that his Father is truly gone if only for the sake of Castiel's fledgling. He sets his shoulders and goes to find dear Prudence.

He finds her a few miles off in a barn that's thrumming with poor quality techno and full of kids who are too busy getting drunk or high to notice him. Prudence is an easy find with pink hair and an orange sarong, barefoot and curled up in the hayloft with a teenage couple that probably isn’t going to be prepared for the consequences of this night.

"Giggles!" She squeals when she sees him and tackles him into the hay, already putting those beautiful tongues to work.

"Mnf! Pru! Hi! Can we talk?"

"Talk?" She sits up blinking and confused, she's drunk. Pru always was a fan of Bacchus. "Gabriel, you never want to talk."

He gets an arm around her waist and levers them both out of the hay, "I want to talk this time."

Ten minutes later, he's behind the barn and Pru is staggering around giggling and trying to not puke.

"What do you mean I wasn't supposed to do it? They were so sweet and manly! That green-eyed hunter just swooped in and bam!" Pru jumps and claps her hands once, "And the angel was sooo nice once he saw me! All apologetic and those eyes! How could I not make sure those eyes were carried on? There was just so much looove in him!"

She spins a bit before falling in a heap at Gabriel's feet and pointing at him from the ground, "You sir, are a spoilsport!"

There are just sometimes when a facepalm is all you have left, archangel or not, "Pru, how on Earth did you mix a human and an angel?"

"Oh, it's easy!" she laughs, "You just get a bit of both and 'smoosh'! You have to have equal amounts or else it won't work! That'ss the key!"

"No, ah, how did you conjure it? Exactly?"

"Hmmm? Oh well, all the love and admiration floating around, you get enough of it you know and you can transmute it into anything," She rolls over and Gabriel steps back to protect his shoes. He's not sure he likes that look on her face, "It's what I always did for the sodomites. It's how I can tell if they're _really_ deserving."

Gabriel winces but carries on, "Prudence, this child is not supposed to exist."

The goddess frowns and drags herself to her knees, "Oh, don't say such a terrible thing like that! Of course it is! Back in my day, people would pray all the time for children! Little gifts from God..." She staggers to her feet and grins, "Gifts from your father, that's what they called them."

"I doubt my Father would be entirely pleased about this, Pru..."

She laughs again, a bright musical thing, "You silly angel, do you think your father would let me make anything he didn't want?" She turns back to the barn, waving her hand at him, "Silly thing, there's still rules and all to follow. Can't make the little ones without following the rules..."

Gabriel lets her stagger off, back into the barn to find more couples and more drink. If she'd been following the rules then...

Had his Father, wherever he was, wanted this? All Gabriel can recall is the storm pushing Castiel into his arms.

__“He will grow. He is an experiment, to raise one of our own. Like a human child. Here.”_ _

"Another experiment, Father?" Gabriel whispers to the air before snapping his fingers.


	3. Chapter Two: Bring it on Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rating for this part: Rating: PG-13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Up to 5x10

**Chapter Two: Bring it on Home**

_“Other things may change us, but we start and end with family”_ \- Anthony Brandt

Dean's rubbing a towel over his hair as he stares at his bloodshot eyes in the steamed-up mirror. Cas had said he had the baby situation under control and Sam was there, and well Dean hadn't showered since the demons. Plus he'd had blood in his hair, not to mention little bits of metal.

And dammit, he needed time to think.

He wipes his hand across the mirror and scowls at himself. Right, he can handle this. The baby is cute and fires up all their protective instincts so maybe she's a trick or a trap. Possibly this is the work of a real Trickster this time. Or a glamor put on a perfectly normal human baby by a Fertility Goddess. Because babies did not _poof_ out of nowhere.

Dean curls his fingers around the cold porcelain of the sink. Something had spooked Cas though. Spooked him enough that he called Gabriel -- which Dean still thought was a really shitty idea. Then again, Gabriel had seemed a little -- spooked -- as well. Dean frowns, and resists banging his head against something.

Whatever the kid is, whatever the hell was going on in those angel brains, Dean will handle it. The chances of the baby still being there by the end of the week, given the Winchester track record for weird things hitting them then going, is next to zero. Dean might just put money on it.

He tosses the towel over the side of the tub and starts pulling on the clothing he brought in with him. Sure, he and Cas fuck (make love), and sure Sam's seen him in his birthday suit but he ain't putting on a show. And he and Cas haven't had a chance to be alone in almost a week. Cas gets handsy when Dean exposes a lot of skin around him, and Dean's not going to tempt fate.

Not that he thinks Cas will pay him much attention with the baby in the room. Dean pulls his t-shirt on over his head. He tried to tell Cas not to get too attached but it's not even been a full two days and Cas is obviously head over heels for the kid. The baby's going to disappear, hell, Gabriel's probably telling Pru to undo whatever she did right now, and Cas is going to be broken-hearted.

Dean's not, though. It would have been easier if she'd disappeared after the first night like he thought, but he's not getting attached. Sure, she has Cas' (Jimmy's) eyes, and is soft and warm, and cuddly, and curls into his chest trustingly like Sam did all those years ago (though she's older than Sam was and Dean's quietly grateful for that). Sure, what he saw of her other -- angel -- form made something in his chest tighten. And the way Cas looks at her -- eyes soft, adoring, like he's holding the most unique thing ever known in all creation --

And sure, she might be Castiel's and his _daughter_ \--

He leans heavily back against the door and rubs a hand over his face. He can handle this.

Dean pushes himself away from the door and tugs it open. The TV is on, almost too bright in the dark room. It's some cartoon, Dean could probably name it if he tried, but the first thing -- the only thing he can think is that he doesn't see Castiel. _He doesn't see the baby_.

He must make a noise, Dean's not sure, but suddenly Sam is shushing him. "Hey, you'll wake her up. She just fell asleep."

Sam's lying on his bed, and the baby is on her stomach beside him. She's tucked up in a baby blanket and wearing a white onesie that Sam bought at a thrift store near the Walmart. They're at the last of their money now.

Dean wonders who changed her into it after she burnt up the first one when she shifted, because Cas had been holding a naked baby when Dean headed in to take his shower.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asks softly, walking across the room to Sam's bed. There's a half full bottle on the nightstand, next to a pair of cheap sunglasses. Dean notices some of the chrome splatter has been scraped off the fake wood.

The baby stirs a bit at the sound of Dean's voice, and Sam smiles. His eyes are slightly red rimmed. "Talking to Gabriel outside."

Dean frowns, but strokes his fingertips over the baby's soft hair, "He say anything to you?"

Sam shakes his head, and carefully sits up and stretches, "No, well, nothing important anyways. He was wondering if she was drinking the bottle because we offered it to her or because she was hungry," Sam shrugs a little. "Nothing about the fertility goddess other than some grumbling about 'flighty pre-christian goddesses'."

Gabriel talked to Pru and the baby is still here. Dean swallows hard, "Did he seem upset? Worried?"

"Distracted," Sam tells him, wrinkling his brow. "I don't know, he's harder to read than Castiel."

Dean looks towards the motel room door and scowls. He thinks about going out there and demanding answers, but with his luck, Cas and Gabriel have gone to Mars or someplace to talk.

"Is there something wrong with the baby?" Sam asks carefully, and Sam was never a good actor, the worry is plain in his voice. Dean suddenly remembers he wasn't there when Gabriel showed up.

"Other than existing?" Dean asks sharply. The baby makes a sound in her sleep, and Dean soothes her with a hand on her back. Sam gives him a bitchface. "Don't give me that look, you're the one that does all the extra credit research. Angel and human babies aren't allowed, Sammy."

Sam looks at Dean then at the baby. "Looks like this one is. Look, I know..."

Dean narrows his eyes at Sam. "You don't know shit."

"Okay, okay." Sam holds his hands up. "Fine, whatever."

The room is quiet for a long moment, only the sound of the low sound of the cartoon on the TV and their breathing. Dean leans down and gently picks up the baby. "I just don't want to talk about it," he tells Sam, retreating back to his bed with the baby. "Okay?"

Sam finally nods. "Okay. We won't talk about it. I'm going to take a shower."

Dean nods. "Yeah, okay." He sits down on his bed, watching Sam grab his stuff and head into the bathroom. The baby seems content against his chest, and Dean lies down so they're both more comfortable.

She stirs again and raises her head, blinking at him sleepily. Reaching out with a hand, she pats his face and smiles.

Dean rests a hand over her back. "Go back to sleep, baby girl," he whispers.

He closes his own eyes as she settles against his chest.

God, let him be able to handle this.

***

Castiel re-entered the motel room, with Gabriel behind him. "Sam..." the words die in his mouth as he sees that Sam is gone and it's Dean stretched out on the bed with the baby. For all Dean's protests, he seems very comfortable sleeping with the child so close.

He hopes fervently that Dean will be able bond with the baby. Dean will be a good father, Castiel knows this.

"We were gone awhile," Gabriel comments.

Castiel nods in agreement and moves closer to the bed. Careful not to wake man or child, he places his hand over Dean's where it rests on the baby's back. They both seem so fragile and vulnerable like this, and Castiel is unsure of his ability to keep them both safe. Dean would never admit to needing protection, but Castiel protects him as best he's able... But he could not save Ellen and Jo, could not protect Dean from the pain of their deaths.

Gabriel had said that the baby could not have been created without their Father's knowledge, but Castiel worries -- fears that this is punishment. To be given this tiny life, whom Castiel finds he is incapable of _not_ loving, only for it to be taken away.

He looks up from his contemplation of Dean and the baby to Gabriel. "Gabriel," he starts then pauses.

The other angel's eyes are on the bathroom door and the sound of the shower running beyond that. There is something to Gabriel's face that's almost unreadable, a longing.

"You covet him," Castiel says softly, measuring his words, worrying that Gabriel will not take kindly to them.

Gabriel turns his head away from the bathroom door quickly. "I'm just..." he shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, Cas. I'm not going to do anything to the boy. He's made his feeling about me pretty clear."

Castiel frowns, feeling as if he's missing information. He will not pry into this unless it's needed, though Samuel could do worse than have Gabriel's attentions on him. "They do not trust you because of your actions towards them before, but both he and Dean would appreciate your help."

"They'll be getting my help whether they like it or not," Gabriel says with a sense of finality, looking meaningfully at the baby then Castiel. "There are some things I need to check on. You know how to call me if you need me, little brother."

"I do. Be safe Gabriel," Castiel tells him. There was a time when "Go with our Father's love" would have been said, but now...

Gabriel nods. "Keep your family safe until I return."

Then with the sound of wings, Gabriel is gone.

Castiel turns back towards the bed; and Dean and the baby. He sits down on the other side of the bed, and reaches a hand out to trace Dean's features, relaxed as they are in sleep. The worry lines are smoothed away, and Castiel wishes they could always be so.

The baby stirs slightly, but doesn't wake.

Castiel finds he wishes she would and that she would shift.

He finds he wants to take his daughter flying.

***

The demon approaches in fear, head bowed. He's failed in his mission, and living to tell the tale might be worse than having died at the hands of the Winchesters and their pet angel. But he has news, and he might be rewarded, if not forgiven, for it.

"You dare come before me after failing so miserably? I ask you and the others to do one simple thing, to bring me one empty headed fertility goddess and you are all that's left. Did she giggle the others to death?" The room is filled with the sound of pacing footsteps.

"No, my lord," the demon stutters, "There were hunters. The Winchesters and that angel."

There is the sound of leather creaking, but the demon keeps his eyes on the ground. He doesn't trust, no demon fully does, but given the options it was better to serve him than --

"You know where the Winchesters are?" There's a curious note to his voice, still angry but the demon takes it as a good sign.

He nods. "Yes, my lord. I even know the motel they're at."

There's a soft chuckle. "Well, you've proven yourself useful after all."

The demon glances up just barely. "I know more than that. The fertility goddess, she rewarded them. The older Winchester and that angel."

The pacing stops. "Oh? Do go on. What did that little blasphemous creature reward them with?"

"A baby."

***

Sam is scraping spattered chrome off the headboard when Dean returns triumphant with three greasy bags. It had been an exciting morning, the baby had already shifted forms twice, once seemingly after getting excited about seeing a bird out the window.

"Lunch time ladies! And Cas." He swaggers into the room looking far too proud of himself, but of course he has a grinning one-year-old looking at him like he's her own personal God.

Cas looks up from the floor where he's been talking to the baby in a strange lyrical tongue. The baby had been cooing back happily, and occasionally answering back in the same language. Now she's making excited noises and wriggling to turn around as Dean dumps lunch on the table and scoops her up. She squeals, and he and Dean both briefly close their eyes but she just sighs and cuddles into Dean's shirt, thankfully not shifting this time. They should really watch how excited they make her.

Sam frowned as he shuffled through the bags, before looking at Dean, "Did you like, steal someone's food, because this is a lot more than..."

Dean elbows him before he finishes, dropping his voice, "I may have had to make some eyes at the cashier to get the fries, don't tell Cas."

Sam rolls his eyes and starts handing out food.

“Okay.” Sam begins, around the food in his mouth, “Plans?”

They're all eating, or attempting to eat. Even the baby had munched down on a fry, and Cas had cautiously tried one.

“Plans for what?” Dean grouses as the baby decides his ear is the most fascinating thing in the world right now. He's mostly finished his burger.

“Well, you’re not just gonna throw her into one of those baby pouches and go after a werewolf. She’s too little to drag around; I remember how much it sucked,” Sam points out, gesturing with his soda.

“It’s not going to be for long… Cas can stay with her if a hunt comes up and…” Dean trails off as he pulls grabby hands from the collar of his shirt and sits up.

“And what?” Sam asks, a bit frustrated by Dean's attitude, even if he understood it, “Dean, what happens if she doesn’t just magically go away in another week or something?”

“I thought we were most especially not gonna talk about this?” Dean shoots Sam his patented "conversation over" look, ignoring hands trying to yank at his mouth.

“Ever?” They’d nearly forgotten that Castiel was in the room, perched silently on the edge of the bed. There's something disappointed in his voice, and he looks at Dean with an intent that makes even Sam feel guilty.

The baby makes a noise when Cas speaks and twists in Dean’s grip until he lets her onto the comforter to squirm over to Castiel’s knees, where the angel smoothes his hand over her head before scooping her up onto his lap.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Not ever, ever. But it’s still too early to make any sort of permanent decisions.”

“This isn’t a permanent decision.” Sam pipes up and Dean glares.

“Okay, genius, what’s your master plan?”

Sam shrugs, it's not a master plan, but it's a plan. “We go to Bobby’s. It’s a stable place and we can lie low until this is all…”

“Oh no, no way am I going to tell Bobby I have a magical angel love baby,” Dean stands and starts pacing. Sam’s sure his brother hasn’t noticed that he’s doing it.

“Come on, it’s bad enough when _we_ stay at a motel, she’s going to trash every other place we stay in. And someone or something is going to notice sooner or later," Sam insists. Plus Bobby dealt with _them_ as kids. A half-angel baby might be a piece of cake for him after them. "Bobby might be able to help us keep her in human form and we’ll draw less attention…”

“So we take her to Bobby’s so she can trash his place?” Dean asks, rolling his eyes.

“We did.” Sam grins and Dean stops pacing for a moment to shake his head, but he was still almost smiling.

“We don’t need to drag him into this. We can wait.” Dean insists, steadily.

“Bobby!” the baby shouts as she tugs on Castiel’s coat until it’s lopsided.

“You are not helping, young lady,” Dean turns, but his voice has gone soft and he isn’t trying to not smile anymore.

The baby squeals and tugs on Cas again before going after his tie and jerking him forward. The look of surprise on Castiel’s face is priceless.

“Oh man,” Dean is laughing and stepping forward to try and pry her off while Sam rolls his eyes and covers his grin.

“I’m not sure where her interest in clothing stems from…” Castiel straightens as he attempts to reclaim his tie.

“She’s just bored,” Dean explains, “Damn, we should have gotten her some toys or something.”

Sam sighs; he thought about it but there hadn’t been enough money. He was hoping she’d be entertained by the TV or well… them but… Castiel makes a curious noise as they finally get the baby untangled from him and shifts her in his lap as he reaches into his pocket.

He pulls out a rather shiny figurine of a golden lion.

The baby makes a pleased noise and flings herself forward to claim it, waving it in the air with an excited squeal.

“I guess she likes it,” Dean says, “Cas, where’d you get that?”

“It was a gift to me from some time ago,” is all that Castiel says as the baby quite busily starts to chew on its head.

“Is it a clean gift?” Sam asks.

Castiel frowns and tilts his head, “I… would imagine so.”

Sam isn't quite sure if half angel babies can get sick but he's not entirely sure he wants to find out. Of course it's too late now...

"Is that thing really gold?" He asks.

"Yes," Castiel says, "It is quite solid."

He and Dean exchange a glance, only an angel would think that the equivalent of a _bar of gold_ would be an acceptable plaything for a baby. Drool slides off the lion's back and drips off it's tail. Oh yeah, he's definitely going to have to figure out some way of washing that thing.

Hell, he doesn't even know how she's lifting it.

"Sam, stop being such a goddamn mother hen," Dean says, watching the baby. "We can handle whatever comes along."

***

It hasn't even been two hours and the windows are shivering slightly with the near unholy volume of crying that the baby is emitting. Sam has shoved himself in the corner of the room, near the door, with both hands over his ears and the only reason he hasn’t gone _out_ the door yet is that he’d have to move them to work the knob. He's surprised they haven't gotten complaints yet; hell, he's surprised the cops haven't shown up.

Castiel is a wreck and he’s pretty sure Dean has already gone deaf since he was holding her when the whole mess started. They still haven’t figured out what’s going on; one minute she’s perfectly fine, holding her lion with Dean holding her while they watched the Mythbusters tie a rocket to a rubber cow and Cas was trying valiantly to figure out just what the show was about and then bam...

Baby goes off like an air raid siren.

She isn't hungry, can’t be wet, she has her toy, Dean was holding her, then they tried to give her to Cas but that didn’t work. Sam even tried holding her. Now Dean had her again and Sam is seriously waiting for his brother’s ears to start bleeding.

“Baby, baby, sweetie, please. Just calm down and we’ll fix it? Okay?” Dean is pleading as he rocks her and strokes her head, his face a grimace of pain the entire time.

Castiel looks to be about two seconds away from doing something angelically drastic when suddenly the crying stops. The silence is like a knife and Dean works his jaw, trying to pop his ears. Sam, though, is staring at a pair of _terrified_ blue eyes that are staring at the closed door.

He jumps over the bed right when the door crushes in on itself and crumbles to the ground.

Zachariah stands in the doorway, smiling. He looks entirely too pleased with himself. Sam can make out flickers of shadows behind him, but whether they're demons or angels he can't tell. It takes a split second for Castiel to be in between the angel and Dean, who is holding the baby.

_Shit._

“You know, you can hear that _thing_ crying from two states away?” Zachariah asks in a disgusted tone. His smile sharpens, becomes something more.

It’s menacing and threatening enough that for the space of a heartbeat Sam is almost worried, of course then his brother opens his mouth and "almost" ratchets up a notch.

Dean lifts his chin. “Did he just say something? 'Cause I can’t hear shit. Was he trying to be witty or scary? Come on, someone throw me a bone.” Dean is holding the baby to his chest, body angled protectively around her. She shimmers in his arms, and Sam really hopes she doesn't pick now to shift.

“You,” Zachariah hisses, pointing a finger at Dean, “You refuse your fate and now you bring this _filth_ into existence?”

Sam sees his brother stiffen, and hugs the whimpering baby closer. Oh yeah, Dean can hear just fine.

“I should have known it was you,” Zachariah turns to Castiel, “the fledgling and his dirty humans. Who else is capable of harboring such an _abomination_ to our laws? An abomination that should not -- cannot exist.” He steps across the pieces of the broken door, further into the room, and there's something slimy about the way he moves. Like a corrupt TV lawyer. The shadows, thankfully, stay on the other side of the threshold.

That’s a threat now. Sam straightens, fists clenching, because this is his _niece_ Zachariah is talking about. Nobody talks about Sam's family like that.

Dean turns, tucking the baby to his side. Sam can see the anger thrumming through Dean; he shakes with it.

Castiel practically growls, “You will not touch her…”

“You’re going to stop me? You’re practically powerless now and your humans are as well. The thing must die. It is our Father’s will,” Zachariah declares loudly, lifting his hands, a mockery of a preacher giving a sermon.

“You know not of our Father’s will. You only know your own twisted desires,” Castiel spits and Sam can feel the tension rising in the room, prickling like static electricity.

The baby is crying again, clearly terrified. Tears stream down her face and her nose is in desperate need of wiping. Dean kisses her forehead, face twisted in anger, fear, and desperation, and for a brief moment Sam sees another Winchester holding another crying, frightened baby.

Zachariah's face twists with revulsion at the noise. “I know you’ve created this outrage! This sin of flesh and lust! Not only do you deny your fate and the entirety of the Host, now you mock it with this _monstrosity_?!”

Zachariah has moved into full-on ranting territory, which is probably why he doesn’t see Dean. Hell, it all happens so fast Sam almost doesn’t even see Dean. In two steps, he pushes past Castiel, presses the baby into his arms, calm as you please, and then punches Zachariah right in the face, hard enough to make the angel shut up. There's a cracking noise that Sam has the feeling was Dean's hand.

“See baby, told you we’d fix it,” Dean says, with a cocky, if forced and pained, grin.

Shit, oh shit, his brother had to end it like that. Okay, that was a pretty good way to end it. Sam wonders just how long the seconds are going to feel before they’re all smited out of existence, but hey, meat-suit apocalypse averted.

Zachariah is crazed, his hand sliding from his face where Dean hit him and he starts screaming, “ _You filthy…!_ ”

“Go on. Finish that sentence," a familiar voice says from behind Zachariah.

Sam knows that voice. That's Gabriel's voice.

There aren’t shadows behind Zachariah now, just Gabriel. He isn't smiling, he doesn’t even have that smirk he always wears. This isn’t the Trickster at all. This is one hundred percent Herald Angel of Judgment and he’s pissed off as fuck. Sam doesn't believe the relief he feels makes him any less of a man, not in any way.

Zachariah isn’t looking so pleased anymore, he isn’t even looking angry. If Sam had to describe it in two words, he’d say scared shitless. Zachariah has whirled around to face Gabriel, clearly feeling safer to have his back to two human hunters and an underpowered angel than an Archangel of the Lord.

“You were gone,” the angel breathes like he’s just seen a ghost, “You left! You have no more right over…”

Gabriel's steps are slow and measured. His eyes are focused on Zachariah, pinning the other angel with his gaze. “Ah now, let’s not drag politics into this. You always were the slower study. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Zachariah, about the treatment of _my_ fledgling and now I find you here threatening my _family_?”

Sam doesn’t have a chance to process that, all he hears is Zachariah muttering, “You left…” and then Gabriel snaps his fingers.

They’re in the car. Dean’s in the driver's seat, keys in hand. Sam’s next to him with Ruby's knife and the Colt between them on the seat. Castiel is in the back, still holding the baby.

That is when all the windows explode out of the motel in a hail of glass and twisted aluminum. They all turn to stare as room 3G starts to suck in on itself, like someone has unleashed a black hole in it.

Sam swallows, “Now, can we go to Bobby’s?”

“Yeah,” Dean's voice is shaking, “Let’s go to Bobby’s.”

“Bobby,” the baby says wisely, waving her lion.

Castiel clutches her to his chest, sinking into the backseat as Dean starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.


	4. Chapter Three: Houses of the Holy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Up to 5x10

Chapter Three: Houses of the Holy 

_"We promise according to our hopes and perform according to our fears.” -François de la Rochefoucauld_

It's not until they pull up at Bobby's in the early morning hours does it dawn on Dean that they failed to inform Bobby they were coming. They'd driven straight through the night only stopping for gas, coffee, and to wrap his hand. Cas had made distressed noises over it, and tried healing it several times before Dean told him to stop, which just made the guilty, distraught look Cas wore even worse.

Sam had insisted on driving after that first stop, and Dean grudgingly agreed. His hand ached, despite the pain pills he'd popped (and he'd never been so grateful for angel mojo as when they discovered all their gear stowed safely in the trunk).

"Bobby's going to have to let Cas through the wards," Sam says softly, as if not to wake the sleeping baby.

Considering she fell asleep with Metallica playing, Dean thinks that more than a little funny. "Yeah," Dean agrees then frowns. He has hand cradled against his chest and looks at Cas and the baby through the rear view mirror. Cas hasn't let her go since, other than to Dean briefly. She hadn't shifted once and it was the quietest she'd ever been, other than some of that odd language she spoke to Cas. "Baby girl back there might need to be let through them too."

Cas shakes his head. "I do not think that will be a issue, Dean. Bobby adjusted the gate wards for me the last time we visited his home," Cas reminds Dean. But you can't fault Dean for not remembering, a lot of shit happened right after that. Stuff Dean doesn't want to think about. "As she is -- a product of us both any ward keyed for us should allow her as well."

Dean nods sharply. "Good," he says.

Sam climbs out of the Impala, and Dean follows. He hates riding shot gun, it feels weird not being the one that drove his baby. Hand still cradled against his chest, he sees Bobby coming across the yard and puts on his best careless grin. Bobby's already scowling, and he probably knows something up given the fact the Winchesters are supposed to be a state away.

He'll probably make them drink holy water.

Sam goes through the gate first, and Dean follows. He knows Castiel is behind him, the baby's sleeping form held against his chest. Dean wonders if she warm enough in the crisp fall morning air.

"Hey Bobby," Sam calls, "Uhm, sorry we didn't call. We sort of didn't have time."

Bobby raises an eyebrow and Dean can _hear_ the unspoken "idjit".

Dean rolls his eyes. "What Sam means is that our motel room became ground zero for a angel cat fight, my hand might be broken, and -- " he takes a deep breath then gestures at the waking baby, "This is my magical angel love baby."

Sam snorts loudly.

Castiel stands ramrod still next to Dean, his hand spread across the baby's back. The baby is looking around curiously, making soft bird like noises, then smiles widely at Bobby. "Bobby!" she declares happy, spreading her arms in the air.

"You never did do things by halves," Bobby finally says shaking his head. "Normal's probably scared of you boys."

"We do not mean to be a imposition on you, Robert," Castiel says, trying to keep his hold on the baby. She stretching her hand out for Dean, as if she thinks if Castiel lets go she can just _fly_ to Dean. And maybe she does.

Dean moves closer to Cas, giving the baby his good hand. "Dean," she coos happily, then reaches for his injured hand. Cas pulls her tiny hands away.

"Well, this wouldn't be the first time a Winchester showed up injured, with a kid in tow," Bobby says gruffly. "At least you aren't bleeding. Come on in the house. You need that hand properly wrapped and Sam looks ready to sleep where he stands."

Castiel's posture relaxes just slightly, and Dean wonders what he was afraid of, Bobby wouldn't not take them in. Dean can't even fathom Bobby doing that. He does know from Bobby's tone, that explanations are expected, damn good explanations at that.

Sam cracks a large yawn as if on cue. "It was a long night."

Bobby chuckles and nods, turning his wheelchair around. "Bet it was."

Dean thinks that more than an understatement. Sam closes the gate, and they follow Bobby up to the house. Sam yawns again, and Dean's hand is starting to throb.

"You boys have any supplies for the little one?" Bobby asks as they reach the house.

Dean nods, even though Bobby can't see it. "Yeah, bottles and stuff. We're not sure if she actually needs to eat."

"She does like her bottle," Cas says softly.

Bobby nods as he enters the house. "Good, 'cause I've got that ol' crib Sam used up in the attic but I didn't keep too much of that stuff."

Inside is warm, and the sense of safety and security Dean always feels at Bobby's seeps into his bones. The baby makes a happy noise as if she feels it too. "Dean," she coos.

"Daddy," Sam corrects as if by reflex.

Dean shoots him a dirty look, and Sam makes a face back at him.

"You still have that old thing?" Dean asks quickly as if Bobby and Cas didn't just witness that.

Bobby shrugs, though he's giving Dean a look that suggests a talking to is in his future. Great. "Just in case," he explains. "Now, Sam you get some rest before you fall over, and one of us has to haul you upstairs. Dean, into the kitchen, and lets have a look at that hand."

Sam lumbers up the stairs and Dean obediently follows Bobby, pain, exhaustion, and relief at them all being safe for a few hours catching up with him. Castiel is only a step behind Dean, as if he's worried to let Dean out of his sight.

And the way he still holds the baby so protectively, maybe he is.

Dean can't blame him.

***

"A fertility Goddess?" Bobby repeats, as he laughs. "Dean Winchester, you really are your father's son, aren't you, boy?"

Dean's cup of coffee is growing cold where it sits untouched on the kitchen table. Cas isn't hovering at the moment since Bobby sent him up into the attic for the crib. The baby is in Dean's lap now. She keeps trying to touch his injured hand and Dean's not sure what's up with that. "I'm not sure I even want to know; but why exactly do you say that Bobby?" Dean asks, he's bone tired and all he really wants is his bed. But he hadn't wanted to put off explaining the baby until the next day.

"It was years ago, you were about eight I think. John had left you boys with me while he went on a hunt. You both had the flu and a motel room was no place for you boys," Bobby says carefully.

Dean half wonders what Bobby is censoring, he kind of remembers that week, being so sick and wanting his dad, but dad wasn't there. "Seven, I wasn't quite eight yet."

Bobby nods, watching as the baby flutters her hands over Dean's broken hand. "Sounds about right. Well, he managed to mix himself up with some fertility Goddess. She'd saved his life or some nonsense and she wanted _babies_ as payment. John said she kept talking about power in the blood line and about you and Sam."

And yeah, Dean really doesn't want to think about some Goddess like Pru all over his dad wanting to make babies. He shudders at the thought, then pries the babies hand of his ear. "Well she obliviously didn't get her way. Unless I've got more half-siblings out there dad didn't feel the need to tell us about." It comes out more bitter than Dean means it too. He gets why Dad never told them about Adam, he does but...

"Son, your father loved your mother. Never stopped loving her probably until the day he died, and I'd be willing to bet long after," Bobby tells him, and there a sharpness in his voice that surprises Dean. "And you boys were his life, don't you forget that."

Dean swallows, nods, trying to come up with something after that, still caught on the sound of Bobby's voice when there's a rattle of wooden bits behind him and the ever familiar sigh. Dean rolls his eyes and stands, tucking the baby against his side as Bobby follows him out to the living room. Cas has dragged the unassembled crib down, and is currently frowning at it like it's purpose in life is to cause him distress.

Dean can't help but smile, it's just so... normal. "Cas, you have to put it together first."

"I am well aware of what needs to be done, Dean."

Oh, now didn't that just sound the littlest bit bitchy? It's official now, his life is completely falling apart. Again. Great.

"Buurrr..." The baby hums and goes for his injured hand again.

"Baby girl, you've gotta quit that." Dean shifts her higher as guileless blue eyes stare up at him and Castiel turns.

"She is... She is trying to fix you," he tells Dean and there's part exasperation, part pride in his voice as he steps forward and rubs his hand over her head, "She isn't fully aware of how to do so yet. Her grace is far too young, but once she's older..."

There it is, a bit of pride welling up in Dean now because that is just freaking awesome and that's _his_ girl... Shit. The change must show on his face because Cas is looking at him with all the hope in the world and it's far too much. Dean quickly looks at the ground and feels the air settle like stone around then again.

Bobby clears his throat. "You gonna stand there swaying until you drop her, boy? Go upstairs and sleep, I think me an' an angel can handle a crib."

"Yeah, I should sleep." Dean fumbles, trying to not look at Cas or at Bobby who's frowning something fierce.

Castiel nods as Dean eases the baby into Bobby's lap, and makes his escape up the stairs, his eyes lingering for a moment on the edge of Castiel's coat, and the stacked pieces of the crib.

***

Dean wakes up to the sounds of dinner being made and of squealing. He shoves his head under his pillow, it's excited squealing so he's not worried but really, if she's that excited she's going to shift and... There's a low chiming noise and he hears Sam yell and then Bobby starts yelling at Sam... Dean grins. Sometimes his brother is an idiot. He dozes for a a few minutes until he picks up footsteps on the edge of his hearing and a cool hand slides over his lower back.

"'M awake."

"I know." Castiel says, sitting down on the bed, fingers slipping under Dean's shirt and making him wriggle under the touch.

More squealing and shrieking, a bit more annoyed this time, Dean huffs a breath. "What is Sam doing to that baby?"

"Last I saw he was making an attempt to sanitize her lion. I do not believe it's going well."

Dean chuckled into his pillow, trying to not fall asleep again as Cas practically petted him. Hm. Wait. Dean pushed himself up rolling over and blearily looking at the angel with the least amount of suspicion he could muster. "What are you up here for?"

"I was not aware that I needed an excuse to be with you."

_Shit._ Way to go, Dean.

"Shit, Cas. I'm sorry, I just..."

"You do not wish to discuss our child," Castiel says flatly. "Robert informed me that the idea of commitment scares you. I will not press the matter."

Wait? What?

Castiel is standing and Dean is left holding empty air as the angel turns. "Dinner is ready. You should come down."

"Cas, I didn't mean... Just give me some time, alright?"

The angel's expression is blank before he leaves, "Of course."

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Dean comes downstairs after washing his face and pulling on a pair of jeans to find Sam frantically washing the golden lion in the kitchen sink while the baby is wailing and shrieking in Cas' arms. Bobby is at the table with his hand over his eyes, shaking his head. Castiel is talking to the baby in that flitting tongue and after a good ten seconds of watching all this and listening she quiets down. A moment passes before she reaches out to Sam. "Bath?"

"Yes," Sam nods. "Your lion is having a bath. You had a bath and you lived. He is going to be fine."

Dean smiles as he wanders over to the stove and peers into pots. Ugh. Green. Sam must have made dinner. He looks up again as Sam dries off the lion with a kitchen towel and hands it back. "Look, see, he survived."

The baby makes a sort of grumbled accepting noise and leans back in Cas' arms returning the lion to his rightful place, her mouth. The microwave beeps and Sam pulls a bottle out of it while Cas sits down at the table.

Bobby lifts his head and frowns at the angel. "Alright, what do you mean you haven't named her?"

Sam tests the bottle, looking sidelong at his brother. Dean blinks; he's got the feeling that he's just come in during the middle of something. Something that he should know about. Castiel frowns and does that head tilty thing, looking up when Sam approaches and claims the baby from him, ignoring the tiny grumbles and itty bitty bitchface that instantly disappears when she realizes that Sam is the man with the bottle.

"In the past few days we haven't really had a chance to..." Dean gets a flick of a glance, "think."

Dean is a second away from giving his usual excuse, not the time, they should wait... But Bobby steamrolls him. "I doubt that. What do _you_ want to name her?"

The silence is so thick it could probably be classified as a solid at that point and scientists wouldn't argue. Cas' head tilts the other way and Dean cannot believe he'd say anything. He wouldn't. He'd ask first because this was important and...

"I suppose, in the tradition of remembrance, she could be called Ellen. That is... if you think it is appropriate."

He _wouldn't_.

Bobby breaks the silence by making a thoughtful noise and then nodding. "That's a good pick."

Then Sam nods, shifting the baby in his arms. "You could call her Elle for short. She looks like an Elle."

The whole damn kitchen is nodding like it's a job well done and Dean is standing by the stove wondering when the hell he turned invisible.

"Excuse me?" His voice is way too high and somewhere between panic and pissed off because he's stuck in between a really strange sickening mix of the two and can't get out.

Castiel looks straight at him, face impassive and says, "You are excused."

Bobby's eyes widen and Sam sucks in a breath.

"I'm what!? You can't just name her without..."

"Was now not the right time, Dean? When was I supposed to do it? When you decided she _existed_!?"

All the plates on the table shivered and for a long moment Dean didn't say anything. But when he did; he started slowly, "Now I never said..."

Sam is slowly backing out of the kitchen with Bobby following as Castiel stands. "You never said anything!"

Oh yeah, this was not going to be over fast.

***

It's a nice day and if Sam just looked at the landscape and eased back against the house he could almost imagine that his brother and an angel weren't having a shouting match loud enough to bring the walls down behind him. Bobby had long since tuned them out and was working on a doze in his chair while the baby, Elle, sat in Sam's lap and seemed content with her bottle. This was well... pretty much as good as it got.

Elle murmured something in that airy sort of speech that Castiel had been talking to her in and Sam blinked; looking down before squinting at the horizon.

Gabriel was walking down the road to the house, his hair tousled and coat flaring out behind him. He paused for a moment at the gate, frowning and then seemed to sidestep through something Sam couldn't see, making his way towards the porch. Sam wasn't sure if he should tell Bobby that an Archangel just wiggled through the wards. He'd bring it up later. Gabriel stops in front of him, tossing Bobby a cursory glance, before smiling down at Elle, then looking around.

"Is there a reason we're all on the porch?"

A beat passes before the shouting from inside ratchets up a notch making the windows rattle and the lights flicker. Oh man, Cas is mad.

"Uh, Dean and Cas are finally talking."

"Ah," Gabriel sighs and takes a seat next to Sam, tipping his head against the house and closing his eyes.

Sam swallows, his eyes drifting to the Archangel where he's settled in a sprawl, like a puppet with its strings cut. There's a long tear in his sleeve from elbow to wrist, and the collar of his coat is tattered, fraying against the back of his neck, and the fabric looks singed. Sam doesn't want to ask, well, he really _wants_ to ask but he isn't sure if it's appropriate. Gabriel looks tired, not at all like the smirking trickster Sam was used to. He looks like whatever they glimpsed in that circle of holy oil, something old, ancient, powerful, and apparently content to lay slumped on Bobby's porch in the sunset.

Sam is only vaguely aware that he's staring at Gabriel's fingers, golden in the light, when Elle burbles something and drops her bottle with a 'thunk!'. Sam lets her pull herself up on his shirt and extends his arm for her to hang on to as she wobbles a foot before letting herself down, hard, in Gabriel's lap. The Archangel winces and Sam closes his eyes trying not to laugh.

"Come on, cupcake, be gentle."

Elle giggles and climbs up Gabriel until she's standing again, patting at his face as he brings his hands up, lacing his fingers across her back to support her.

"Castiel named her," Sam says, because it's important and he might be a little proud to tell someone.

"Oh really?" Gabriel shoots him a glance that's all mischief and trickster, obviously picking up the reason behind all the "talking" going on in the house. "And just what did _Castiel_ come up with?"

"Ellen," Sam says, "I think we can call her Elle."

Gabriel frowns, tilting his head back and forth as he contemplates the baby in his lap, before pronouncing, "She looks like an Elle."

Sam grins as the house falls silent.

***

"--and don't you dare make me the bad guy here because I'm being realistic!" Dean yells, fists clenched at his side. "Stuff like this doesn't happen, not with out consequences. Not without people getting hurt. I'm trying to protect us here --"

"Be silent," Castiel orders. His anger feels like a tangible thing, it threatens to break free from his grasp, and he really understands the human saying of not being able to see straight. He loves Dean, with all his heart, soul, and remaining grace, but part of him wishes such violence on Dean now. "How is treating _our fledgling_ like you have, like some inconvenience to be suffered through, how does that protect me? How does that keep me from being hurt, Dean?"

Dean's face twists, guilt and confusion in his eyes. "Cas, just --"

"No! Do you know how it has hurt to see you turn from her? You act as if you care for her then treat her like a she's a curse that you hope will soon vanish!" The windows shudder as power seeps into his voice. Dean winces and takes a step back. Then another. Castiel follows. "You claim you love me, but you shut me out. As if I was something to be dismissed."

"Dammit, Cas, no. Would you just --" Dean raises a hand. "Dammit will you let me talk!?"

Castiel reaches a hand out and shoves Dean backwards into the wall. Dean hits the wall with a audible "oof" and -- Father forgive him -- Dean looks betrayed. "I have tried speaking with you! If it were just me I would give you all the time in the universe, Dean. Our daughter, Elle, cannot wait for you to come around to accepting her existence. I will not subject her to a parent that loves her only when it doesn't trouble him!"

Dean doesn't say anything; his gaze is fixed on the floor and his shoulders set in a tense line. Dean looks -- shattered, wounded. Like a man that had prepared his home for a flood only to be taken unawares by a fire. "Cas, _please_ " Dean finally whispers.

All the anger goes out of Castiel in a rush and suddenly all he feels is exhausted and heart sick.

"If you do not want us then I will take Elle and go," Castiel finally says. Though he's not sure _where_ they would go. Gabriel, maybe, could hide them. He can sense his older brother just outside, just as he can sense his fledgling, happy and content, as her Uncle entertains her. Father, what should he do?

"No," Dean whispers, his face gone pale. He pushes away from the wall, moving forward into Castiel's space. The fingers of his good hand curl around the edge of Castiel coat and jerks at the fabric. "You can't take her."

Castiel goes to pull away but Dean's refuses to let go. "Why not? You don't want her!" he hisses back.

Dean shakes his head and makes a pained sound in the back of his throat. "I lose everything good, Cas. Everything. I can't be given something like this without strings. It doesn't happen for me." There's anger and pain and fear in Dean's voice, making it ragged. "I love you. Dammit, I love her. And I know the moment we start making plans, the bottom is going to fall out. Something's going to happen... that Goddess is going to take her back, another Angel is going to show up or a demon or something and... and were going to lose her... And I can't..."

Dean's shoulders jerk and he presses his face into Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel is as still as a statue for the space of three breaths, then he raises his hand and cups the back of Dean's neck. "I am afraid as well," he admits softly. "I cannot protect you, _either_ of you. My powers are too weak. If Gabriel had not come that night..." The fear had been like nothing else Castiel had ever known and it still haunted him, reminding him that he could never hope to fully protect his family from harm.

Castiel trembles with it.

Dean's arms slide around Castiel offering silent comfort. Castiel takes it willingly, greedily.

Dean lifts his head to press a kiss to Castiel's forehead. "Can we start this over?" Dean asks carefully.

Though he's unsure, Castiel loves Dean too much not to nod. Dean shifts against him, bringing their mouths together for a chaste kiss.

"I think Ellen is the perfect name," Dean tells him, eyes warm and honest.

Castiel smiles, and has to kiss Dean again because this hopeful joy needs some outlet.

***

Dean's got Cas' tongue in his mouth, and his hand gripping Dean's shirt, and Dean's pretty damn alright with that. It's been days since he's gotten to touch Cas like this, and the thought that his stubbornness almost made the time without longer, maybe forever, scares the shit out of Dean in ways he doesn't want to think about. So he clutches Cas tighter, his fingers resting at the bare skin just above Cas' collar, and wishing he had two good hands not just one.

"Can you two _please_ take that someplace else?" Sam's voice cuts in, all whiny and distressed. "Some of us would like to eat dinner sometime this _year_."

Dean intends to take his time pulling away, making Sammy squirm a bit, but Cas pulls away first, his face slightly red. And Sam's gone and embarrassed his angel.

"Yes," Cas says, eyes going beyond Sam standing in the doorway. And there just behind Sam, holding his baby girl, is Gabriel. Dean wants to kinda tell him to get his hands off her, but she's smiling, babbling at Gabriel, and reaching out to try and grab Sam's hair. "I did not mean keep anyone from dinner."

Gabriel raises his eyebrow, then pins Dean with a hard look. Dean swallows, and wraps his good hand around Cas' wrist. "We need to finish talking," he declares. "Don't let us starve you, Sammy, and I expect you to keep a eye on him," Dean says pointing at Gabriel.

"Keep an eye on him?" Sam protests, but Dean is already tugging Cas up the stairs.

He can hear Gabriel laughing behind them.

Cas stops him midway up the steps. "Should you not eat, Dean? Your last meal was almost twenty four hours ago."

Dean shakes his head, wondering if he should read something into the fact Cas didn't give him the time down to the second. There was a time he'd have done that. "I'll eat when we're done."

He gets the distressed, "I think you are being very foolish, Dean", head tilt, but Cas follows him the rest of the way up the stairs. When they reach the guest room Dean's claimed, he pins Cas to the door with a hungry kiss.

Cas kisses him back, hungry, needy -- almost greedy -- and _fuck_ Dean loves it when Cas gets like this. Like he wants to crawl into Dean's skin and live there, like he wants to _own_ Dean. As if he didn't already.

Dean's hard in his jeans, and he tugs at the knot of Cas' tie at the same time he's trying to walk them backwards to the bed. Because he's smooth and he can do shit like this. Only Cas makes him clumsy, makes him too greedy for Cas' skin.

Then Cas pulls away, his mouth red and wet, and it always sends a jolt of pure arousal through Dean's belly to see Cas like that. He's made Cas look like that and damn if that ain't a good feeling.

"I thought we were going to talk," Cas says, putting a hand between them.

Dean nods and lurches back in for Cas' mouth. "Yeah, after."

Cas shakes his head. "No, Dean. Now."

He's almost about to push it, to say that it'll wait, they can talk later but that's what he's _been_ doing; and all that got him was being left out of naming his kid and a fight where Cas said he was going to leave. "Okay," Dean says. He steps away and sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Okay?" Cas echos.

Cas can't be confused by what the word means then it dawns on Dean that Cas wants him to say it. "Okay, let's talk."

He feels like an idiot at the bare relief on Cas' face, because yeah, that's his fault. He'd spent too much time freaking out that he'd stopped paying attention and that... That's usually when he loses things. He reaches out and Cas walks forward, slipping his hands into his, Dean's seen and imagined way too much, he can't afford to fuck this up.

He _can't_.

***

Sam was curled up in the recliner, reading, pretending to read. In reality he was ignoring the faint noises of "talking" that were coming from upstairs... and watching Gabriel. The Archangel was spread out on the couch with Elle asleep on his chest. He'd been more than content to play with the baby while Sam and Bobby ate; even after Bobby had raised all sorts of hell about the trickster being there, and that had been a fun explanation. Bobby had gone to bed after that, shaking his head. Then...well, they'd just sort of gravitated towards the living room, like it was normal, like Gabriel had always been there.

So Sam watched him over the top of his book. He'd fixed his clothes sometime during dinner though his jacket was over a chair in the kitchen now. Gabriel had his eyes closed, his fingers idly tracing symbols on the baby's back as she slept, runes that meant protection, that meant _love_. Elle snuffled and wriggled, Sam watched Gabriel run his hand down her back until she calmed. There was something to that, something to the way that Gabriel smiled when Elle held her lion out to him; something to the way that he looked at Cas when he wasn't being a furious trickster.

He put his book down and Gabriel's hand stilled on the baby's back. "So, um..." He kept his voice low to not wake the baby and because it was strange, talking to Gabriel, asking him anything. "What's with the whole "fledgling" thing?"

Gabriel's face stayed neutral though Sam saw the barest ghost of a frown. "Are you looking for a definition of the word or a history?"

Sam swallowed, now or never. "You called Castiel your fledgling."

"I did."

Honestly, it was like pulling teeth; from a dragon. Sam sighed and sat back. "I was just wondering what it meant. I mean, from all my research there wasn't any mention of well "baby or fledgling" angels or anything. It was implied that God made them all fully grown..."

"All but one."

Sam stopped with his mouth still open. "All but one?"

"Castiel was... different."

"Different?" That was interesting. "How different?"

Gabriel sighed and opened his eyes, glaring at Sam. "Father got bored and decided to make an angel that couldn't take care of itself and gave it to me. Happy?"

"No," Sam says, a sharp edge to the word. "I mean I'm happy you told me, but I'm not happy it upset you."

Gabriel bristles...no, Gabriel looks ruffled, like a bird puffing out its feathers in annoyance. "I'm not upset," Gabriel hisses.

Elle grumbles into his chest, stirring slightly. Gabriel smoothes a hand across her back to settle her, expression softening.

"I'm sorry," Sam says finally. "I won't ask anything else. I was just curious, and Cas is sort of like my brother-in-law now."

Gabriel doesn't say anything his mouth pushed into a thin line.

Sam sighs and leans forward in the chair. The distance is small enough and his arm is long enough, that it isn't hard to reach across and tuck a bit of hair behind Elle's ear. His fingers brush against Gabriel chest by accident and Gabriel goes very still.

He doesn't want to think about what that means as he pulls his hand back. "I never thought I'd be a uncle," he says quietly.

Gabriel turns his head, just slightly, and meets Sam's eyes. "You're good with her, though she's still annoyed at you over her lion."

Sam brow wrinkles. "How did you...?"

"Cupcake, here, told me." Gabriel's lips curl into a easy, happy smile.

Sam thinks this sort of smile looks good on him, he wonders if the Gabriel that Castiel knew long ago smiled like this more. "So that's what she was telling you. What language is that anyways?"

"Ours," Gabriel tells him non-helpfully. "She's picking it up faster than English, the little genius. Cas is teaching her well." There's obvious pride in his voice and on his face.

"I didn't expect her to get so upset over washing the lion," Sam mentions, he's curious but he's not going to push. After all he can just ask Cas about the language thing.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Castiel would have thrown such a fit if someone had even touched his lion. It was his favorite toy. Of _course_ he would like the toy that Michael, the giant show off, gave him best."

Sam nods. "I'm betting Cas didn't chew on it like she does. And considering that Bobby now has chrome on his ceiling, her fit was pretty epic." That made sense, Castiel giving Elle his favorite toy from when he was little. There's a stab of sadness that he and Dean will never _ever_ be able to do that. He can't remember having a favorite toy. He can't remember Dean playing with toys. Then he blinks again. "Wait, Michael gave Cas the lion?"

"That is what I said." Gabriel has gone back to idly tracing symbols onto Elle's back. Sam finds himself watching Gabriel's fingers.

"Michael? The Archangel Michael? Who's supposed to burn out my brother and leave him a empty shell. That Michael?" Sam asks quietly. He keeps his eyes on Gabriel's fingers... it's calming.

Gabriel inhales sharply but doesn't say anything. Instead he shifts Elle against him as he gets to his feet. Sam stands as well, watching as Gabriel walks around to the crib on the other side of the couch, and gently places Elle in it. Gabriel lingers there, but it's Sam that walks around, leans in beside him to cover her with a blanket and smooth her hair.

Sam's still standing there, pressed maybe closer than he should be against Gabriel's side, fingers curled around the crib railing, watching the baby, when Gabriel's hand settles next to his, just brushing the edge. That probably should freak him out, but it doesn't.

"I won't let him," Gabriel says almost too softly to hear. "Michael wouldn't...he wouldn't now...he..."

He trails off and Sam looks over at him. "You haven't seen him in a long time, have you?"

Gabriel's fingers tighten around the railing for a moment. "No. And he's not who he was before the first war. I'd forgotten that."

"The first war?" Sam breathes, a little amazed to hear it spoken about like that. As something that wasn't a myth; something that was pain and violence.

"Michael loved the Morningstar almost too much, his fall, his betrayal... It broke something," is all Gabriel says, though Sam can hear the memory in his voice.

Sam lifts his hand, without examining the urge too closely, and brushes his fingers over Gabriel's.

Elle sleeps on and her uncles stand watch over her for a while longer, neither speaking.

***

There are pancakes for breakfast. Castiel is unsure if Gabriel made them or simply conjured them as the pancakes were already there when he arrived in the kitchen with Elle. Dean and Robert are already eating. Dean is sitting next to Castiel, eating one handed -- his injured hand kept him from sleeping more than a few hours, much to Castiel's distress.

Gabriel is sitting on the kitchen counter, which has earned him several glares from Robert. Elle is eating bits of pancake Dean had cut-up for her, while Castiel had dealt with one of Elle's shifts out on the porch. He really needed to remember to speak with Robert about some way to help her control them. Dean happily seems to approve of the pancakes and Gabriel has risen slightly in Dean estimation. He wonders if he should let his brother know that if he really wishes Dean to trust him by way of food that pie would be a more likely substance. Castiel, though, is sure this is more because Gabriel wished to eat pancakes, with chocolate chips in them no less, than for any other reason.

Then Sam enters the room, and grins. "Awesome, chocolate chip pancakes, I love these."

Gabriel's grace brightens in a way only Castiel can see, but the way his eyes light up would be obvious for anyone that looked for it.

"You're lucky we didn't eat them all, sleeping beauty," Dean tells him around a mouth full of food.

Sam rolls his eyes and makes what Dean's calls a 'bitchface' at Dean. "Good morning to you too, Dean. Morning Cas, morning Bobby." He strokes a hand over Elle's hair. "Morning, Elle."

"Morning," Elle repeats, cheerfully.

Dean grins widely, his body language shifting just slightly, and Castiel feels such joy to finally see the unbridled pride in Dean's face over their fledgling.

"Gabriel," Sam simply says and Castiel looks up at the greeting as his brother beams.

"Don't worry, Sammy," Gabriel says, handing Sam a plate stacked high with pancakes. "I managed to rescue some from your brother."

Dean gestures with his fork in a fashion that means nothing to Castiel. "Ha-Ha. Sam needs to watch his girlish figure anyways."

"Oh fu-- bite me, Dean," Sam shoots back. "Thanks, Gabriel."

Gabriel shrugs. "Don't mention it."

Castiel will never understand the way Dean and Sam converse at times, but he feels a certain envy that he never had sibling with whom such insults were meant in affection not in truth.

Sam takes a seat at the tables and starts to eat. Elle abandons her pancake pieces and reaches again for Dean's injured hand.

"No," he tells her softly in his own language. "You cannot, Elle." Castiel tries to take her hands away but she makes an angry distressed noise that attracts everyone's attention.

Dean drops his fork and takes one of her small hands in his good one. "I know, baby girl, but you'll have to wait 'til you're older to do that sorta thing."

"What's wrong with Dean's hand?" Gabriel asks, looking over a cup of coffee that smelled more of sugar than anything else.

Castiel looks up to find his brother frowning and fears the disappointment he is sure Gabriel will feel in him. "Dean struck Zachariah before you intervened."

Gabriel sharp gaze shifts from Dean's hand to Castiel. "Why didn't you heal him?

"I cannot," Castiel admits, hanging his head. "I lost the ability to heal anything but the most minor of injuries and even those take a great deal of energy."

Elle makes a soft noise, and stops trying for Dean's hand in favor of patting Castiel's face. "Ol Gaha Ol," she says. He's not sure if she understands his distress, but feels grateful his daughter does not blame him for not being able to heal her other father.

"You didn't tell me it had gotten that bad. You told me..." Gabriel's voice is clipped and strained.

"It is fine. I did not wish to..."

"To what!? Worry me!? Castiel, how are you even teleporting?"

"Carefully," Castiel swallows. Dean is looking at him while Sam is looking at Gabriel and Bobby, quite pointedly, doesn't look at any of them.

"You're impossible, sometimes I don't even know..." Gabriel mutters in their tongue.

"I am sorry, Gabriel," Castiel says back in their language, he's already started a fight in this kitchen; he does not want another one.

But Gabriel sighs and is off the counter in one lithe move. "You," He says in English and points at Castiel. "Are not allowed to lie to me anymore about important things like this. And you," He grabs Dean's injured hand by the wrist ignoring Dean's complaints. "Are going to stop being a completely bad influence. That's my job."

"Jerk!" Dean manages as he reclaims his hand from Gabriel, flexing his fingers before starting to pull the wrap off.

"Idiot." Gabriel mutters as he turns back to the counter to dump more sugar in his coffee.

"There, see?" Dean holds his hand up for Elle to grab. "Your jerky uncle fixed it."

Elle coos as Dean musses her hair and then Castiel remembers. "Gabriel?"

"What?"

"I could not heal Robert either," Castiel says very softly in their tongue. His eyes flicker toward their host. Robert had done so much for Dean and Castiel hadn't been able to do just that one thing for him.

"Right, the wheelchair." Gabriel says in English and turns to lean against the counter as Bobby looks up, his expression unreadable. "So, are you getting healed too old man? I'm not working miracles all day, you know."

The kitchen is silent for a second, too much hope and anticipation in the moment, before Bobby breaks the silence.

"Who're you calling old man? As far as I knew it you're the oldest one here."

For one moment, suspended in time, Gabriel is shocked. His eyes wide and surprised, before he dissolves into laughter. "Oh, I like you." He laughs, leaving the kitchen, stopping to pat Bobby on the shoulder twice. "I like you a lot."

***

Gabriel is perched on a junked car a little ways off from the front porch; he'd taken his coffee with him, although it sat forgotten in the grass now. He didn't much like healing the sick, there were other angels that were better at that gig then he was. But Castiel had looked at him like a helpless puppy and Cas is his fledgling. His fledgling that is currently _mated_ to the idiot Winchester and Bobby is well, the closest thing he has to a father. So in some silly, unimportant, roundabout way Bobby was family now. Family.

Gabriel is trying to not regret everything. He should have left the Winchesters alone. He shouldn't have even let his guard down long enough for them to trap him. He should have... should have learned his lesson. Then Castiel would have never come back to the warehouse, he would have never agreed to help his fledgling... Everything would have been just so much easier. He liked the easy way out, he was _used_ to the easy way out. Now, nothing was easy.

He doesn't turn when the front door opens, or when the sounds of footsteps make their way over to him. It's Sam, he knows before he even looks up. He can sense him, smell him and right now the boy smells like chocolate chip pancakes and is radiating joy. He grins when Gabriel looks up and then he says, "You're amazing."

It has been over a millennium since anyone has approached Gabriel and been this happy to see him. This _pleased_. His throat goes dry and any witty comebacks tumble out of his mind. He wants this human, he wants this feeling all the time, he wants to horde it and roll in it and... He's only very suddenly aware that he's smiling like an idiot, humming under the praise, when Sam blushes. There are a hundred things he tries to get out at once, truths, lies, backpedaling, he's half rising from the car as Sam's eyes flash to the ground and...

"Oi!"

He and Sam freeze. What the hell?

They turn to the gate where a dark haired man stands in skinny jeans and a red leather jacket, he's got a purple shirt on that says 'Feel free to feel me' and what has to be the world's ugliest hat. He scuffs his worn Converse against the ground and grins.

"I'd 'ave let meself in but I thought tha' would be impolite."

Gabriel swallows and blinks, "Barachiel!?"


	5. Chapter Four: Dancing Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Dean and Castiel deal with their newest addition; Gabriel learns that the first lesson was the easiest, while Sam clings to lessons learned in fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Up to 5x10  
> A/N: Super extra more thanks to sweetsyren for making Barachiel actually British sounding. XD
> 
> PG-13 this part

Chapter Four: Dancing Days

_His face when he repeats his verses hath its ancient glory, an Archangel a little damaged.”_ -Charlie Lamb

Sam takes a step back as Gabriel is in front of the newcomer in record time.

"What the hell do you want, Barachiel?"

The man tosses his hands up like the cops are on him, though he's grinning. "Whoa, easy mate. Just lookin' into a rumor that’s all."

"What rumor?"

"Well..." He starts. "A friend of a friend of a friend told me Zachariah got his arse booted halfway across the continent and aint been seen since. So I go lookin', cos frankly that’s bloody hilarious, and I start hearing whispers that low an' behold, the Archangel Gabriel is back and kickin' the shit out of people! And I’m thinking ‘No chance!’ cos Gabriel aint been seen in a scrap since, what, the first war? Second?"

He scratches his head, knocking his hat slightly off kilter. Sam waits for a moment, he's expecting Gabriel to say something, but Gabriel doesn't, and it suddenly hits Sam that there's an Archangel standing on the other side of Bobby's gate. There's a freakin' Archangel on the other side of the gate -- and okay Gabriel's an Archangel too but it doesn't feel the same in Sam's head. And this guy doesn't look like an Archangel -- but neither does Gabriel -- and okay this isn't helping. Maybe, Barachiel isn't an Archangel, Cas keeps saying the bibles wrong about stuff....

The Archangel in question keeps talking, "Anyway, I ask around and end up chatting to a couple of pagan birds who told me you'd gone Trickster - nice move by the way; fun job, nice perks,” he said nodding approvingly, “They were goin’ on about how one of their lot hit the bottle a bit hard one night and went and made a little angel sprog, and gave it her rescuers as some sorta reward which is what Zachariah was so pissed off about. I put two an' two together and worked out it _was_ you who gave Zach a kicking. Only logical conclusion, innit?"

Barachiel grins widely as if pleased with himself, and slides his hat into his hand almost absently. He spins the hat between his fingers, and rocks forward onto his toes again.

"Cos the only thing that's gonna get you outta whatever hole you buried your good self in, is another little’un running about the place. So I start keeping an ear out for chat regarding _your_ little’un and there weren’t much bein’ said to be honest, but I kept hearing about these Winchester lads and how much of a pain in the arse they were bein’," he says giving Sam a look that Sam really can't interrupt. Gabriel sighs in annoyance but he's ignored. "Turns out these same lads had an angel on side. Bein’ the clever bloke I am, I recalled that, last thing I heard, Castiel was kicking about with a couple of humans. Not exactly a stretch to think one was related to the other and of course wherever he went, you wouldn’t be far behind, especially seen as there’s a fledglin’ involved. So now we got Castiel, we got you, them human lads, and another little’un, mix that all together and I figured something was…well, _up_."

"Dude, breathe," Sam says, without thinking, because he's out of breath just listening to the guy. Then it dawns on him, he just told an angel -- wait an _Archangel_ \-- to breathe. He's really glad the angel is on the other side of the wards and that Gabriel seems to like him better than he had.

"Angels don't need to breathe," Gabriel mutters, "Somethings up? Barachiel, how did you find us?"

"Yeah that. Well somethin’ over here keeps lighting up like a bloody roman candle. Somethin' angelic. So I just sorta circled around 'til I found this place all covered in wards and here you are, just loungin’ about."

"Elle," Sam says under his breath. It has to be. Even he can feel it when she shifts so God only knows what it must look like to the angels. Crap. That had to be how Zachariah found them.

"Elle?" Barachiel's eyes light up. "That’s her name, is it? Very nice. Very human. Like it."

Gabriel huffs out a breath and glares at Barachiel like he's deciding whether to let him in or kick him across the yard. The archangel grins, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his hands in his pockets.

"Come on, Gabriel, don't be a bastard. S’why I'm here, innit? If there's a new little’un kicking around, I wanna take a look at her. We’ve not had one since Castiel, and you know I’d never lay a finger on her, so I don't know why you’re eyein' me like that."

Sam crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. "Yeah, because Zachariah wasn't trying to kill her, and all those other angels haven't been trying to kill Castiel. Angels are totally trustworthy," he says probably more harshly than one should speak to an angel. "And why the hell do you have a British accent?"

Barachiel blinks at Sam and for a second he thinks he might get smote but Gabriel is right there next to him.

"Been in London the last hundred years or so. After the first decade you find yourself goin’ a bit native,” he turns back to Gabriel and frowns, “So why are them buggers tryin’ to kill Castiel?"

"He defied heaven's orders to save Dean Winchester." Gabriel says quickly.

Sam swallows hard, that's not the real reason. Not anywhere close to it, and why is Gabriel practically lying? "Actually Castiel defied heaven's orders to give Dean a chance to keep me from starting the Apocalypse. And that didn't go so well," he says, and rubs the back of his neck, his eyes firmly on the ground.

"You?" Barachiel looks Sam up and down, his expression turning amused. "Sorry mate, but you don't look like you could start a piss-up in a brewery."

"Barachiel..." Gabriel warns and Barachiel puts up his hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright. So, Goliath here’s the one that cocked it all up then? What’s that got to do with your fledgling?"

"I told you, Castiel defied heaven's orders to..."

"Hang on, when you say Heavens orders you mean _Michael's_ orders, yeah? Dunno if you got the memo, what with you being all Trickster-like, but when Dad buggered off he put Michael in charge upstairs."

"Then how come Zachariah’s calling all the shots?" Sam steps forward so that he's even with Gabriel.

Barachiel blinks. "Who's callin' what now? Zachariah’s in charge of watching Earth. Middle management type. He ain't supposed to be mucking up anything in Heaven. He aint supposed to be mucking up anything on _Earth_! What the hells goin’ on, Gabriel!?"

"You don't know anything about this? About Lucifer?" Gabriel demands. "How could you miss the mess he's been making!?"

"Raphael's had me watching an angel and a demon prance around in a bloody bookshop for the last soddin’ century! I've not had any new orders in decades, mate!"

"Look," Gabriel steps forward, "Raphael turned Castiel into spam a couple of months back, he's listening to Zachariah."

Barachiel goes a rather sickly shade of pale and Sam is starting to feel sorry for him. He doesn't look like he's lying. He looks... shocked.

Suddenly Barachiel straightens and slips into that lilting chiming tongue, his expression serious, and Gabriel answers him back. Sam swallows as the conversation flies back and forth with Barachiel getting more and more agitated.

Until the angel just sits down in the dirt in a heap.

"Lucifer’s been outta hell how long?"

"Six months, and he's raised two horsemen."

"Hang on, he ain't supposed to be doin’ that. Not his job if it's the proper apocalypse."

"Well, tell him that," Gabriel snaps and Barachiel shivers.

He looks miserable. He's taken his hat off and is twisting the brim in his hands while gritting his teeth.

"Archangels...we don't...we don't listen to that bloody prophet! It isn't done!" Barachiel looks up and his eyes are glittering. "Why would Raphael _do that_?"

Sam blinks. Barachiel's accent had faded for a moment and his voice cracked on those last words.

Gabriel sighs; the suspicion is gone from his face, now he just looks tired. "I don't know, Barach."

Barachiel is shaking his head, eyes fixed on the horizon. "You don't do that. Castiel's the youngest; you don't do a thing like that to the youngest."

A moment passes while Sam fidgets and then Gabriel steps across the wards and hauls Barachiel to his feet. "Come on, get up."

Sam...Sam isn't sure about this, but he trusts Gabriel. He trusts Gabriel not to endanger Elle or Cas, because Sam's seen him with them. Sam knows Gabriel loves them. "I, uhm, think I should go give Cas and Dean the heads up." He looks over at Barachiel. "I apologize in advance if my brother tries to kill you. He's kinda protective of his kid."

Barachiel shrugs. "Fair enough."

***

Dean holds Elle protectively to his chest as he glares at the newcomer, whose speaking to Castiel and Gabriel in that odd lilting tongue. Elle seems to be listening to them and she's calm in Dean's arms. Calm and quiet, watching the Barachiel curiously as she chews on her lions ear (Dean figures she's going to have a few new teeth coming in soon).

"Gabriel trusts him," Sam says softly. "He wouldn't let someone in that was going to hurt Cas or Elle."

Dean snorts. "And you and Gabriel are best buddies now, huh?"

"You know I have more reason to hate him than you, and I've gotten over it, mostly," Sam mutters. "I kinda understand the guy."

"Understand!? Are you gonna have sleepovers and braid each others hair now?"

Sam probably makes a bitch face but Dean is too busy watching Cas, watching his body language. Which is kind of like watching the body language of a statue, but he's had his hands all over that body, he knows Cas. His angel had gone all silent fury when Sam had come in and told them Gabriel had let an angel in -- an _Archangel_ in. He'd been sure Cas was going to storm out of the house and confront the others but instead he'd picked Elle off the floor where she was playing, handed her to Dean, and said "Gabriel would not bring danger on us purposefully, Dean." But Cas had still looked tense and wary, even for a few minutes after Gabriel had brought Barachiel inside.

Which in Dean's opinion was a very bad idea. Which is why he has his gun, not that it would do much good, but he ain't going down without a fight.

"I did warn him you might try to kill him," Sam mentions.

Dean shoots him a glance and Sam is smirking. "So if I shoot him, I'll just be living up to expectations then, huh?"

"Yeah, but Bobby might get pissed about archangel blood all over the floor." Sam grins.

Elle suddenly says something bright and happy in that other language, and waves her lion in the air. As if she had just come to a decision about Barachiel.

Castiel turns and smiles, it's happy and full of pride, and damn if that smile doesn't make something twist in Dean's chest. It makes him more determined not to lose this. Ever.

"Now isn't she a little bit of something," Barachiel laughs. "An' not as shy around people as her Dad was, I see."

Sam makes a sound that sounds very much like a snicker.

Cas flushes slightly. "Barachiel, this is my -- this is Dean and our daughter Ellen."

Barachiel takes off his hat and does a half bow. "My pleasure. Heard enough about you, Winchester, you're the highlight of heavenly gossip you know."

Dean rolls his eyes. "Great. I'd say it was a pleasure but I'd be lying. We've got no reason to trust you."

Gabriel narrows his eyes. "Because I said so."

"That makes me feel so much better," Dean snaps.

Barachiel holds his hands up.

Elle makes grumpy sound as if she realized that Dean wasn't going to get closer to the new person. She waves her lion in the air again and squirms in Dean's arms in that restless way that means she wants to get down. But Dean's not chancing her anywhere near Barachiel.

Castiel moves over to Dean. "Dean," he says softly, placing his hand on Elle's back. "I believe Barachiel when he says he does not mean us harm. He has not been fully aware of what has been occurring."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Dean demands. Elle latches on to Castiel's shirt collar, the trench coat was laying across the back of the sofa, and makes a demanding sound, then says a word Dean is quickly figuring out means _Cas_. Reluctantly he lets Castiel take her. "He's an angel."

Cas mouth curves downwards. He runs his fingers over Elle's head. "As am I, Dean. As is our daughter." There's a hint of anger and disappointment there. "Gabriel is my brother. Barachiel is my brother. I trust them."

Dean swallows hard. Most of Cas' brothers want him dead, and he'd killed at least two for Dean. Maybe more. He brushes his fingers against Cas' hands. "Alright," he finally mutters. "But I don't like it."

"If Barachiel was a danger do you think Elle would be so calm?" Cas asks, detaching Elle's hand from his tie as he speaks.

Elle makes a small "huff" sound, then leans over Cas' shoulder, moving her lion around through the air like it was flying.

Dean watches her for a moment. "She cried like she was dying before Zachariah showed up."

"Barachiel circled the house a few times before he landed. Elle's been happy all morning," Cas reminds him.

Dean sighs. "Fine, okay, take her to meet her other Uncle," Dean tells him. "I should check on Bobby. Let him know he's got two Archangel's under his roof."

Cas' lips part, and Dean's sure Cas is going to ask him to stay. But he can't, he _can't_. Angels are assholes and Dean doesn't trust any of them but Cas. Okay, maybe Gabriel a little, after he healed Bobby for no reason other than Cas _asked_. But he can't stand here and watch an Archangel near her, not when he's still coming to grips with Elle and everything she means, and that she's here to stay.

But Cas doesn't ask. Instead he says, "I hope he doesn't find it a imposition."

Dean laughs. "He probably will but don't worry about it. He'll be more interested in how two Archangels got past his wards."

Cas nods, and brushes his finger tips against Dean's, and it feels as intimate as any kiss. Then he moves away back towards where Barachiel and Gabriel, and Sam are talking. Gabriel says something with that snide grin of his that makes Sam laugh, traitor, and Barachiel grin.

Dean stays long enough to see Barachiel smile at Elle, and speak to her in their language. Elle says something back, then waves her lion at him.

He's almost out of the room when he hears Barachiel laugh and say, "Of course she would like the bloody lion, was always your favorite as well. Never saw why."

He stops for a moment, thinks about turning around and just _asking_ about the lion but he shakes his head and leaves the room. There are a bunch of little things that are adding up now, but he wants to talk to Cas about it. Because if what he thinks is true, Gabriel isn't really just a brother to Cas.

***

Gabriel is standing on the porch watching Barachiel stalk the edges of Bobby's property, frowning here and there. Bobby had taken a good long look at Barachiel and then promptly kicked both the archangels out. Apparently if they kept breaking his wards they could damn well fix them when they were done. Gabriel had brought up the very good point that they didn't actually "break" anything, just sort of moved in between. It had been less then effective. Plus, he knew it was Bobby's way of protecting Elle, and Cas, and Sam, and Dean who still had that stick-up-his-ass look and hadn't said much the whole time Barach was in the house, at least to anyone that wasn't Sam or Cas. Honestly, it was like Cas had married some wide eyed housewife who hid from company, which was hysterical because Dean was loud, brash, and had no problem getting into people's faces -- he'd decked Zachariah for crying out loud. Gabriel was smiling at the thought when Barachiel broke the quiet.

"Oi? You gonna give me a bloody hand here or you gonna just faff about?"

"Faff? Seriously?" Gabriel stepped off the porch and crossed the yard. "You've been on Earth too long, Barach."

Barachiel rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk. You're a blooming _pagan god_. How's that workin' out for you anyhow?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Fun while it lasted."

"Aw, you're not going to get all thoughtful on me again? You were like that after all the wars. Had to get you pissed to shut you up." Barachiel stands back and sighs.

They stand there for a moment side by side, putting away memories that neither wanted.

"You really think Zachariah is doing this? That he's gone off his nut?" Barachiel frowns, scuffing his foot in the dirt.

"I think that something was bound to happen sooner or later. Then the Winchesters slotted into that prophecy of his too well to ignore. As it is in heaven so shall it be on Earth." Gabriel rolls his shoulders, thinks about his words to Dean and Sam in the warehouse and regrets them.

"You know that's a load of shit, Gabriel. Those humans, they're brothers, yeah, but they aren't what Michael and the Morningstar were to each other. Castiel's a sure sign of that. He's _mated_ , I did notice how that word wasn't brought up at all, and that boy is absolutely loyal. If those Winchesters were to fulfill that prophecy your fledgling sure has gone and mucked it all up."

"That's why Zachariah wants him dead." And Gabriel wishes he could fully blame Dean for that.

"Well, Zachariah can go fuck himself. Ordering the Archangels about and trying to kill your fledgling... He was always a pissy little tosser." Barachiel frowns and digs through his pockets until he pulls out a crumpled cigarette, which he frowns harder at.

Gabriel fists clench at his sides. "He hasn't just been trying to kill, Castiel," he says in a harsh whisper. If Zachariah hadn't managed to escape, Gabriel would have killed him. He would have willingly torn out his wings and ripped away his grace.

"He didn't," Barachiel's voice is rough as he looks back towards the house, his true voice leaking in just slightly.

"Called her a monstrosity," Gabriel growls. "I think he would have killed her even if she hadn't been another glitch in his prophecy. If I hadn't gotten there..."

Barachiel rests a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, and Gabriel is quietly grateful for his brother. He had _missed_ having the support of his brothers. He'd _missed_ his family, and he hadn't remembered how much until he was faced with Castiel. He didn't think he'd ever forget the betrayed look in Castiel's eyes, even if his fledgling had forgiven him.

"You got there, brother," Barachiel says in their own tongue. "And he can fuck right off, thinking he has the right to judge Castiel's fledgling. Jumped up little wanker. What does he think he's playin' at?"

"We don't know, Barachiel. He might be getting orders from Michael." It pains him to say it but he needs to be said.

Barachiel snorts. "Not bleeding likely. You remember the last time you saw Michael?"

That wasn't something Gabriel could forget. The shadows of fiery wings dragging on the ground as the spear dropped out of Michael's hand. There was rejoicing everywhere but where Lucifer had been sealed. Gabriel thought that he saw Michael weeping, but it could have been anything, the air was so thick with smoke and blood.

"Last battle of the Second war," Gabriel breathes. "Right after he'd sealed Lucifer away for good."

"Yeah, well, that's the last anyone really saw of him. No more Michael on the battlefields, or in the garrisons. He did what Father ordered him to do but only that. He just sort of curled up and stayed away, if you get my meaning? Dad left, left him in charge and that's when all the orders sorta dried up."

Gabriel swallowed. "He stopped caring."

"He weren't the same after the First war, it just got worse after that. You'd stay away for ages before you left for good, you didn't see all of it." Barachiel rolled the unlit cigarette around in his hand. "You didn't see how bad he got."

"How bad?" Gabriel whispered, not wanting to think of it.

"Bad enough that I'm calling this whole "apocalypse" a load of bollocks." Barachiel flicked the cigarette into the grass, "There isn't a thing in heaven or earth that would make Michael fight his Morningstar again. He'd die first."

Gabriel presses his lips together, watching the wards glimmer and shift around the perimeter of the salvage yard. He thinks of Sam begging and threatening to have his brother back; of Dean willing to go to hell in trade of his little brother's life. "Dean Winchester would die before fighting or killing Sam."

Silence for a moment before Barachiel crouched down and flipped his hat off, toying with it. "Even if that's true, Dean Winchester has a lot more to worry about than just his brother now."

This was exactly what Gabriel had not wanted to get involved with, but if the whole world burned then what happened to Elle? To Cas?

"Speaking of his brother... You climbed that mountain of a man yet?" Barachiel's smile is sly and insinuating.

Anything Gabriel had been thinking came to a messy and crashing halt. "What!?"

"The Goliath, he keeps making eyes at you. I figured you were courting him with the amount you've been touching him."

"I do not touch him!" Shit, maybe he did. It wasn't his fault Sam was all elbows and bulk and the living room was kind of small... "We're... friends." Shit. It had been years since anything that he didn't make himself could be called that.

"Yeah, I saw and I remember what you do with your friends, Gabriel."

"This is different!" Gabriel hissed, starting to seriously consider kicking Barachiel out now. Before this became a thing.

"Oh? Different is it?" Barachiel stood and slipped his hat back onto his head, nodding solemnly. "I didn't know it was _different_. That's a whole new mess then, innit? Might need some help with that."

"Barach, I swear..."

Barachiel is grinning now and backing up slowly towards the house. "Oh, come on Gabriel. What would I do? What could I _possibly_ tell the boy?"

The scuffle on the front porch only lasts as long as it took for Bobby to come downstairs and chew out the two "ijdit" angels that can't seem to get a simple task done.

***

Castiel hears Elle's laugh as he climbs the stairs.

Robert is outside checking the wards and grilling Castiel's brothers on how they'd tightened them up before he turns in for the night. And Castiel would be lying if he didn't admit that the idea of the two Archangels being ordered around by Robert is amusing. Sam is pouring over several old books so that as Sam puts it Robert's home will not be redecorated in chrome. Elle hasn't shifted since morning, but if her shifts allowed Barachiel and by that logic Zachariah to find them...

He pushes the thought away as he follows the sound of Elle's high bright laugh and Dean's deeper one. He finds Dean and their fledgling in the room he shares with Dean. Castiel smiles fondly watching Dean play with Elle on the bed.

"I think Mr. Lion wants a kiss to make his poor chewed on ears feels better," Dean is telling Elle. He's laying on his stomach, holding the lion, making it walk across the bed to Elle, much to the squealing delight of the baby.

"Kiss?" Elle asks, reaching out to pat the lion. Her hair is still damp from her bath, and for some reason so is Dean's hair. His flannel shirt is draped across a chair, damp spots slowly drying. Castiel wonders if that's a side effect from the bath. He had allowed Sam to bath Elle alone that morning.

Dean nods. "He'll give you a kiss first," Dean says, and makes the lion 'kiss' her nose.

Elle giggles happily. "Elle kiss lion," she declares and catches the lion in her hands. She kisses the lions head, then drops it to the bed, and pats Dean's face. "Kiss daddy?"

"I'll always take a kiss from you, baby girl," Dean tells her. Castiel can hear the slight hiccup in Dean's voice, and wonders if Dean is feeling the same terrifying joy he had the first time Elle named him. He's so good with her, just like he must have been his brother.

She gives Dean a sloppy baby kiss on the side of his face, and Dean leans up and kisses her forehead.

Castiel feels his human chest tighten, and his grace flare brighter than it had in what seemed ages. _Please,_ he whispers in his mind. _Please do not take this. Damn my soul, take my grace, but do not take this._

"Elle, you know what time Mr. Lion says it is?" Dean's asking the baby. "Tickle time."

Elle shrieks with laughter as Dean tickles her and blows on her stomach. Castiel see her form shimmer slightly, just before she catches sight of him. "Ol Gaha Ol," she calls.

Dean turns his head and sits up slightly when he see's Cas. His cheeks go pink in a way that Castiel finds endearing. "Hey, Cas. Come to join playtime?"

Castiel moves forward and cannot resist trailing his fingers along Dean's spine, and touching just briefly his mark on Dean's shoulder. "I believe Elle is about to shift. I wish to take her to my brothers. They might have an idea one how to control it."

Dean sits up completely. Elle is still giggling and is babbling to her lion, making it hop across the bed. "And you want them to see her "angel" form." There's no judgment behind the words.

"I know you don't trust Barachiel, Dean," Castiel starts, but Dean catches him by the tie and tugs him down. He barely has time to adjust his balance before Dean kisses him briefly, but fiercely.

"I trust you," Dean tells him, then lets Castiel go. He scoops up Elle and blows on her stomach again. It makes their fledgling squeal and laugh. "Go show off your wings, baby girl."

Dean puts Elle in Cas' arms. Elle wraps her fingers around Castiel tie, holding her lion with the other. She babbles a mix between his language and English that really isn't understandable. "Thank you," Castiel says, but Dean shrugs him off.

"Go on before she shifts and gets chrome everywhere," Dean tells him, as Elle shimmers again.

Castiel nods and carries Elle downstairs and out into the yard, passing Robert on the way out. Robert pats his shoulder as he passes. "Thanks, son," is all he says, but Castiel is warmed by it.

Across the yard, Castiel sees Gabriel grin at the sight of him and Elle. She makes an excited sound, and waves her lion about. "Stars," she calls in delight. "Uncles!"

Then there's a chiming sound as she shifts, becoming light and shadow and tiny wings of liquid metal that makes Castiel think of Dean's car.

"She's beautiful," Barachiel says, voice full of awe.

Castiel smiles, pride blooming in his chest to hear Barachiel praise his child so.

"Of course she is," Gabriel snorts, his tone implying that it was impossible for Elle to be anything but beautiful. But there's a sadness to his voice Castiel doesn't understand.

Elle's tiny wings unfurl, leaving spots of chrome on Castiel shirt.

"May I?" Barachiel asks holding out his hands.

Castiel nods, and allows his brother to take her. Elle goes without a fuss, and grabs for Barachiel hat as she allows herself to be looked over by her Uncle.

"Friendly little madam, isn't she?" Barachiel comments with a laugh.

Gabriel snorts again. "Good thing, too. I don't think the humans could take the shrieking. I don't think there's anyone she doesn't like. "

Castiel frowns at that, watching Elle as she attempts to launch herself at Gabriel who simply laughs and catches her. He lifts her up in the air and Elle squeals happy, her tiny wings moving in the breeze.

"She did not like Zachariah," Castiel says softly.

Gabriel brings her down and gives her over to Castiel again. Castiel runs his hands over her shadows, remembering too clearly the sound of her cry and the sickening realization that he couldn't protect her.

"No one likes Zachariah," Gabriel growls, his wings flicking into the physical plane for a moment. "It shows she has good sense."

Barachiel's eyes go cold for a moment, then he shakes his head and slides a finger over the rim of his hat. "We'll talk about it later, hey?" He flips the hat off his head and spins it in his fingers making Elle laugh.

Gabriel shakes his head. "You always did have to have something on your head, Barach. The hat is better than all those laurels and flowers you'd have in your hair when you came home from a trip down to earth."

"Oi, I earned those," Barachiel snaps before turning to Castiel. "Have you taken her flying yet?" He grins, smoothing Elle's shadows affectionately.

Castiel's wings dip slightly. "I haven't had the chance. Things happened rather quickly. I did not think it would be safe."

Gabriel steps up and bumps Castiel's shoulder. "We could take her tonight, it should be safe now that the wards have been tightened. Besides, Barach and I are here." he suggests. "Unless you think your mate would have a fit."

Castiel's eyes flicker to the darkened bedroom window where he'd left Dean and smiles, remembering his _mate_ playing with Elle. "I do not think it would be a problem."

***

The kitchen is dark, and Dean leans over the sink with a cup of cooling coffee in his hands. He's not thinking so much as...being. He's watching the half-moon, and the brightness of the stars. The house is well warded. His family, all of it, is safe for the moment.

Sam's in the living room, still pouring over books, and Dean is grateful for him. So damn grateful that he has a brother that he trusts even when he doesn't trust him. It didn't make sense but it wasn't something Dean could put in words.

Something in the sky shimmers, then blooms with colors. A cluster of blue and purple flares up and feathers out across the stars, followed by a stripe of pale green then a rippling ribbon of silvery white slips out around the edges before weaving itself with the group again. It's beautiful. It makes Dean think of the Northern Lights, but they're too far south...

Dean's breath catches in his throat. It's Cas.

It's Cas, and it's Elle, and maybe even the two Archangels. Dancing in the sky.

And Dean stares, mouth hanging slightly open, at the colors playing across the sky. Angels true forms burned peoples eyes from their skulls. Dean knows this from experience. He never thought that light could be...beautiful.

He doesn't want to think about how high up they must be or that he's never _ever_ going to be able to be part of that. He doesn't want to think about the closed door of humanity that separates him from Castiel and their daughter.

Dean will never know Cas like this. His fingers tremble around the coffee cup. He hadn't forgotten -- he knew what Cas was. But it was -- it is --

He puts the cup in the sink and wraps his fingers around the edge of the counter. The colors shimmer and move in the night sky, and he wonders how many people have gone out into their yards to watch. How many will believe the news channels the next morning that will talk about fronts and flares and the _reasonable_ way to explain it away.

He grins suddenly, joy as sharp as the despair a moment before. That's Cas up there, and Cas is his. He has the love of a being that can _be_ that. He's the _father_ of someone that can dance in the sky.

He laughs softly, and watches.

"Wow," Sam's voice comes from behind him. "Is that the angels?"

Dean nods, unable to stop grinning like an idiot.

He hears Sam walk across the room, before he comes to stand beside him. Sam's still holding one of the books he was looking at, and it occurs to Dean that Sam must have seen some of the lights from the living room window.

"That's...that's awesome," Sam says his voice hushed and awe filled. Sammy's always been the more religious one. "Gabriel's up there too?"

There are sharp things Dean could say, that he wants to say, but instead he nods. "Yeah, I think it's all three of them and Elle."

"It's like the Aurora Borealis," Sam comments, and Dean can hear the smile in his voice.

"It's better," Dean tells him, not looking away from the lights.

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "It is better. You know in the Middle ages they thought auroras were signs from God."

Dean makes a noise that might be an agreement.

They stand there together in the dark watching the lights and colors dance and shimmer across the sky.

***

Sam wakes up, except he doesn't. He knows right away that while he fell asleep in the living room he didn't wake up in the same one. For example, all the books are gone and the floor is missing the telltale scuff marks. The mark on the wall from where he and Dean crashed into it while rough housing when he was nine is gone as well as the blankets and smells. It all looks far too clean, too unlived in... Too fake.

"Curious and curiouser."

Fuck. Of course, of course it's Lucifer. He's not even dressed up as someone else this time. He's... Nick. He's in flannel and jeans, looking innocent, looking comfortable and he's... Sam suddenly feels his heart jump into his throat. All the furniture in the room is the same. All of it, down to the wooden crib that Lucifer is frowning into; running his fingers along the railing.

"Get away from that," Sam is hissing before he even knows it, anger and fear rising like a flame as he scrambles off the couch.

Lucifer doesn't move, though his hand stills and his head tilts just slightly to look at Sam.

"New developments, Samuel?" Lucifer looks almost amused. "Don't tell me you've gone and gotten some pretty thing in the family way. I didn't even know you were seeing someone."

Perfect, wonderful, let him think that. "Well, you'll forgive me if I don't tell you everything."

"I will," Lucifer grins, coming around the couch. "Although I did expect better of you. Honestly, your world is coming to an end and this is what you choose to do?"

"Yeah, well, why not?" Sam is backing up in a circle as Lucifer casually steps up to him. He needs to wake up. He needs to wake up right now.

"I think you're quite aware of the myriad of reasons to not bring some helpless mewling thing into existence at this time. Which is why I'm so surprised, Sam." Lucifer hands are folded behind his back and he shakes his head at Sam like a disappointed preacher. And that comparison is a little sick.

"I didn't think much could surprise you," Sam tries to sound calm but knows he's failing.

"Oh, it's you Sam. You're full of surprises. Are you going to barter for both them or just the child? Because I'll listen, you know I'll listen."

They've gone in a circle while they spoke and Sam feels his back hit the edge of the crib. "I'm not asking you for anything. I'm not saying yes. I'm not..."

Lucifer has frozen. The easy smile is gone from his face and he's staring into the crib as if he's seen a ghost. Sam swallows and chances a look down, he can barely make out a golden shine, a tail and back legs peeking out from beneath the blankets.

_Oh shit._

"Clever boy. This isn't yours at all is it? Yet, you're still so scared." Lucifer takes a step forward and Sam holds his ground.

Lucifer doesn't stop, he presses close, too close, and reaches past Sam into the crib. The lion glints in the light as Lucifer slides his fingers around it carefully, almost reverently. Sam can't read his expression, it's like seeing Gabriel in the circle of holy oil, seeing him standing behind Zachariah, this is an old look. Power, shaking and terrifying. Sam reaches slowly behind him and wraps his hands around the crib railing, desperately trying to remember the brush of fingers and the sound of a smile in silence. Anything, think about anything but...

"What has the fledgling gone and done?"

"None of your fucking business," Sam snarls and Lucifer grins, something bright and mad and wild.

"It would be a half angel. Something..." He trails off his eyes gazing past Sam. "Something beautiful. Something cherished..."

"Sam!"

Sam blinks and turns suddenly, Gabriel is on the other side of the crib, reaching out for him and Lucifer is laughing.

"Wake up! Now!" It's a order, a command, one that Sam so wishes to follow.

He almost flails off the couch, books hitting the floor in a tumble of flapping pages, but someone grabs him and holds him by the shoulders as he gasps and shakes. Sam's got his hands fisted in something soft and then there are hands in his hair, smoothing down his neck; over his back. He can't understand for a moment what they're saying but then he recognizes the soft chiming tongue that the angels use and sags forward as familiar sounds and scents finally return. He's back, he's home.

"Sam, you idiot," Gabriel sounds resigned, tired. "What did you think you were doing?"

"I didn't... Oh God... Elle... He knows..." Sam is shaking, panicked, he couldn't even do this one thing -- protect this one thing for his brother.

"He was going to know sooner or later. Calm down," Gabriel lifts Sam's chin up and brushes his hair out of his face. "It wasn't your fault. How long has this been happening?"

Something in Sam's head is telling him that this is strange. Gabriel's hands are on him, but it's the look of concern on the Archangel's face that makes Sam stop. Gabriel isn't worried about Elle or Cas or... Gabriel is worried about _him_.

"I... A while," Sam manages and feels guilty when Gabriel closes his eyes.

"And you didn't think to bring this up? Even with Cas cut off, he could still ward your dreams." The words are sharp, and Sam cringes.

"I didn't want him to waste..."

"Protecting you is not something I'd call a _waste_ ," Gabriel snaps.

Gabriel is angry, he's humming with power and Sam is still hanging onto it as hard as he can. He hates the dreams, he hates Lucifer's words, the feeling of helplessness, the lack of control. No one's ever pulled him out before.

"I didn't want to bother anyone. It was fine. I..." Sam trails offs, because they both know it's a lie.

"Sam," Gabriel sighs his name and opens his eyes, hazel meeting green. "Sam, just fucking be a bother, alright?"

He can't help it, he laughs. He laughs until it chokes out into something desperate and sobbing. He lets Gabriel wrap his arms around his shoulders because he's knows the Archangel won't tell a soul.

"Dean's gonna be pissed," Sam mumbles when he's done, letting Gabriel wipe his face with his shirtsleeves like he's five and has fallen off a junker in the yard.

"We'll deal with that diplomatically," Gabriel says, expression softening.

"We won't tell him?" Sam frowns.

"We'll have Castiel tell him. Preferably while he's distracted. You buy some beer and I'll get a pie."

Sam grins and nods before his eyes flicker to Gabriel. "Cas?"

"He took Elle upstairs to your brother, he hasn't been flying for the joy of it in a long time. He's... happy." Gabriel breathes the last word.

"Then let's leave him happy for now," Sam says, untangling his hands from Gabriel's shirt.

He's a bit embarrassed now. He hasn't freaked out like that since... Well... It's been a long time and he was usually alone or Dean was there and that was still sort of awkward. But Gabriel just nods and tugs him to his feet.

"Come on, it's late. I've sent Barach out on some errands and I'm on watch. You should try to actually sleep."

Sam rolls his shoulder and decides, for once, to be honest with himself. "I'm not sure I can."

He waits a beat, thinking that Gabriel will insist. He knows he's right too, it would be for the best but...

"Okay," Gabriel says, and the look in his eyes is warm. Safe. "Keep me company?"

"Sure."


	6. Chapter Five: Wearing and Tearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer remembers. Michael forgets. And the Winchesters and Angels try to recharge and regroup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NC-17 this chapter

Chapter Five: Wearing and Tearing

_“There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love.”_ -Susie Switzer

When the world was new and everything was as it should be, Lucifer was the Morningstar and he lived in a bower with his mate. He had a mate, a lover, a confidant, a brother... Now he has nothing.

_Michael is writing, carefully working long flowing symbols into intricate patterns before he sets it into parchment permanently when Morningstar slips into their home, carefully holding a precious slumbering shape to his chest. The Morningstar settles next to him, smug and preening, basking in the warmth of his mate's wings._

_"Does Gabriel know that you've made off with his fledgling again?" Michael asks dryly. He doesn't sound exactly pleased. Everyone knows that Castiel is afraid of him. Only the Morningstar knows how much it actually bothers the Archangel._

_"It isn't my fault that Anael is such a terrible watcher," the Morningstar huffs, nuzzling gently against soft shadows._

_Castiel is a warm weight against him, deeply asleep. He couldn't help it, Gabriel was off doing something for Father, and Anael was arguing with Barachiel about some silly nonsense. Anything could have come along and harmed the fledgling. He's just being a good brother. If the others worry it's their own fault. Michael is pretending to ignore them, shuffling parchment about as the Morningstar sings silly nonsense words to the sleeping angel, but he sees it; the occasional glances, full of longing and love._

_He doesn't know why Father had given the fledgling to Gabriel. Gabriel didn't even have a mate! Honestly, it was all probably some sort of silly test or gambit to get Gabriel to settle down and stop pouting every time Father called him._

_It's quiet and peaceful, until the snuffling starts and then the inevitable whimper. Michael sighs, and the Morningstar frowns, in a moment Castiel is going to start howling and then everyone is going to know where he is. And Michael will be upset._

_"Hush, you. Are you really going to be afraid of him forever?" The Morningstar rocks Castiel in his lap and smooths his tiny wings down as the little slip of sapphire and shadow clings to him. "Michael is supposed to look frightening. He's supposed to lead armies for goodness sakes. I know he's strong and big but he's our brother, and he would never, ever hurt us. Isn't that right, Michael?"_

_The Morningstar glares at his mate, and Michael smiles, trying to tuck his wings behind him as far back as he could. "Of course I wouldn't. It's my job to keep you safe."_

_Castiel peers dubiously at Michael from where he has had face hidden against the Morningstar's shoulder before hiding again._

_"See? We're safe here," the Morningstar murmurs against the top of Castiel's head before kissing the mess of shadows._

_Castiel huffs and grumbles but it's interrupted by a yawn and he settles, seeming content to just stare at Michael from where he was, one tiny fist rubbing at his eyes. The Morningstar rocks him until he wriggles and turns, wrapping little fingers around the Moringstar's, peering around but careful to look away from Michael when the bigger Archangel glances up._

_"Now, where has Gabriel gotten off to, you think?" Michael asks conversationally from behind a sheet of parchment. Castiel perks up, and the Morningstar smiles. The child does adore his keeper, perhaps that was why Father left the little one to him. Stranger things have happened._

_"I'm not sure," the Morningstar drawls. "I didn't see him with Anael, do you think he's working?"_

_"Messages!" Castiel chirps, bouncing in the Morningstar's lap._

_"Messages?" Michael asks, his voice is pleased, indulgent and Castiel nods, fear forgotten in the moment._

_"In Egypt," Castiel says matter-of-factly._

_"I see. Has Gabriel shown you Egypt?" Michael is smiling now, his hands folded in front of him, the parchment cast aside._

_"Yes," Castiel says smartly, "We saw a crocodile and beetles and a baboon."_

_"A baboon? Really?" The Morningstar asks._

_Castiel makes a face. "I didn't like it."_

_Michael chuckles and Castiel grins. The Morningstar is relieved, he didn't want it to be ages before the fledgling stopped being afraid of his own brother._

_"Well, what did you like?" Michael smiles._

_Castiel screws up his eyes, thinking for a moment before practically shrieking. "Birds! They have wings! Like me!"_

_Michael laughs and Castiel squirms until the Morningstar lets him go and the fledgling slides off his lap to sit between them. "Do you like birds?"_

_"Yes, I'm quite fond of birds," Michael answers, leaning back to get a better look at the fledgling._

_"Are they your favorite?" Castiel asks, brushing his shadows out of his face._

_"My favorite animal?" Michael asks as Castiel nods. "I don't know. I suppose if I picked a favorite it would have to be lions."_

_"What's a lion?" Castiel breathes, interest coloring his voice._

_"Well..." Michael begins. "It's rather like a big cat."_

_"How big?" Castiel asks, eyes going wide in anticipation._

_Michael grins. "Bigger than you, lamb."_

_Castiel laughs and grabs at the air until Michael picks him up. The Morningstar grins as Castiel bumps his head against Michael's shoulder and smiles. "Take me to see lions."_

_"Take you? I think Gabriel might be very upset if I did that," Michael strokes his hand over Castiel's head as the fledgling pouts._

_"I want to see them," Castiel argues._

_"Well..." Michael sighs. "Here."_

_He sits Castiel down in front of him and very carefully brings his wing around, dragging his hand down the edge of it until a small ball of flame was cradled in his palm. The Morningstar blinks, he's never seen his mate do that before. Michael works the flame into a shape with his fingers as Castiel watches in awe. Finally, the red hot mass cools until it's dark and then as Michael runs his fingers over it, the shape begins to glimmer, until the Archangel has the perfect figure of a lion in his hands._

_Castiel squeals as Michael holds it out for him to take. "There. That is what a lion looks like."_

_"Thank you, Michael! Thank you!" Castiel waves the lion about and the Morningstar sighs, contented as the fledgling launches himself at his mate, laughter filling the air._

Lucifer opens his eyes when he hears the rustling of wings. The sun is barely rising over the steeple of the church's whose roof he's perched on. The city below him is silent, everyone slumbers on ignorant of the danger in their midst, they are blind, they are naive, they are content, and for that he hates them. There's a man standing in front of the steeple before him, at least he appears to be a man. He's smartly dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, covered with an immaculate black wool coat. He's young and handsome, androgynous, with pale gray eyes and dark wavy hair. He looks the perfect picture of a young wealthy socialite.

"Remiel," Lucifer breathes.

"My Lord," the fallen Archangel dips his head in greeting. "You summoned me?"

Lucifer stands and smiles. "Yes, I have a job for you."

***

The house is quiet as Sam leaves his room rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He doesn't remember going to sleep or even going up to his room, but he remembers watching the stars, the cool metal of a junked car under his back, and Gabriel's voice steady and low as he told Sam ancient stories about the constellations. Dean's door is still shut, and Sam doesn't linger outside it. If Cas and Dean are asleep or not, well they deserve to have some early morning hours of peace.

Elle's crib is empty, when Sam gets downstairs, but he can hear Gabriel's voice in the kitchen and Elle's chiming laugh. He picks his way through the stacks of books and around the couch and chair towards the kitchen. Sam leans against the doorway, watching Gabriel fiddle in a cupboard with Elle on his hip. Gabriel's talking in that lyrical language to Elle, who's waving her lion at him and pointing at the bowl of strawberries that had appeared at some point during the night. She squirms and and reaches, wriggling in Gabriel's grip, and Sam holds back laughter at how exasperated Gabriel looks.

Gabriel frowns and shifts Elle in his arms before he drops her, then snaps his fingers. A highchair appears, all polished wood and Sam; Sam starts laughing. Gabriel turns and glares at him, which only makes Sam laugh harder.

"Sam!" Elle chirps, squirming more before Gabriel puts her in the highchair.

The baby fusses twisting around in the chair before realizing she's not going anywhere. She scowls up at her Uncles, and waves her lion in the air. "Down," she commands.

"Problems, Gabriel?" Sam asks, moving into the kitchen.

Gabriel snorts. "She's still less grumpy in the morning than her father." He plucks a strawberry from the bowl and hands it to Elle. The offering seems to appease Princess Winchester, as she shows it first to her lion then starts to nibble at it with her baby teeth. "Sleep well, Samuel?"

"Yeah, I don't remember going upstairs though," Sam ruffles Elle's hair. "Ready for a bottle, Elle?"

"Bottle!" Elle confirms.

Gabriel gives Elle another strawberry, then pops one into his own mouth. Sam wonders if they're as sweet and juicy as they look, he hasn't had fresh strawberries in a long time. Gabriel had to have mojo'd them since he's pretty sure strawberries are out of season.

Sam pushes by him to Elle's bottle drying in the dish rack, and snags the can of powder to start mixing up the formula. "How are the strawberries?"

"Perfect, of course," Gabriel says as if it's offensive to assume otherwise. He picks one up and spins off the stem. "Want one?"

"When I'm done fixing Elle's bottle. I don't want her waking the whole house," Sam points out. "Or sending up big 'something angelic is here' signals."

Gabriel chuckles and presses the strawberry to Sam's lips. Sam's hands stop, his breath shudders out, suddenly shaky. He can smell the strawberry, taste it barely on his lips. Sams tongue darts out without conscious thought.

"Open." Gabriel says softly.

Sam inhales, hesitates, then obeys. Gabriel slides the fruit past Sam's lips. It's sweet and Sam bites down chews, then takes another bite, until all that's left his Gabriel's finger tips resting against his lips.

"Kiss!" Elle squeals.

Gabriel's hand jerks away as if he'd been burned. Sam flushes and turns his head away, hurrying to finish up Elle's bottle.

"Do you want a kiss then, cupcake?" Gabriel asks, leaning down to give the little girl a kiss on her cheek. Sam watches out of the corner of his eye as Elle pats Gabriel's cheek. His heart clenches and he wants... he wants...

Elle giggles and gives Gabriel a sticky kiss.

Sam wants this. What Dean has.

Sam runs his tongue over his bottom lip, then turns around with the bottle in hand. "Here, sweetheart," he tells the baby, giving her the bottle.

Elle takes it with the greed only a baby can have and Gabriel chuckles fondly. The Archangel runs a hand over her hair, and Sam swears he can almost see Gabriel weaving protection and love over her with just the sweep of his hand.

"Did Dean bring her down to her crib last night?" Sam asks, with a suddenly dry mouth, needing to say something, anything.

Gabriel doesn't look up, but he rolls his shoulders in a loose shrug. "Cas did, after you fell asleep."

"Oh." Sam takes a strawberry from the bowl, wondering if it'll be as sweet as from...he cuts off the line of thought. "I don't remember falling asleep."

Another loose shrug. "You were tired." Gabriel looks up just as Sam bites into the strawberry, and his eyes darken for a split second. It's over so fast that Sam thinks he's imagined it. "Don't worry I kept your dreams warded."

Sam swallows the fruit. "Thanks."

"I told Castiel about Lucifer. He'll tell Dean," Gabriel tells him, eyes watchful.

"Great," Sam sighs and rubs a hand over his face. He was hoping for a little more time before everyone started hating him again. "I'll stay out of his and Dean's way for a while." The ever present fear spreads in his chest. Fear that he'll lose Dean. That this is the final straw and now that Dean has so much more to protect...

"Don't be over dramatic," Gabriel says dryly like he'd heard Sam's thoughts. And maybe he did. He's probably not as nice as Cas about that whole thing. "Castiel doesn't hate you. You didn't do it on purpose and Lucifer was going to figure it out sooner than later. If Barach put it together, the Morningstar would have."

Sam doesn't comment on the slip, barely notices it because he knows how Dean is going to take this. He knows what Dean's going to think about Sam keeping this from him. It'll be another lie, another reason Sam can't be trusted

"What would Lucifer do to her?" Sam asks, voice strangled, as he watches Elle.

Gabriel lets out a sigh and tilts his head back and forth as if he's weighing options.

"I'm not afraid of him hurting her, Sam," Gabriel says voice low as if he thought someone besides Sam and Elle were listening. "Morningstar... Lucifer resented Father giving Castiel to me. He thought that he and Michael should have been given the fledgling. He was always spiriting Castiel off."

"You're afraid he'll..." Sam can't finish it because suddenly it's his fear as well. He remembers how Lucifer spoke, how he held the lion.

Gabriel turns his head and gazes at Elle, who's happily drinking her bottle in her new highchair. Innocent, and happy, with no concept of what her mere existence has done... Sam wonders if he ever looked like that or if he was tainted beyond innocence even then. "He'll take her and keep her as his own. He might even see it as his due. Something denied to him."

"I don't..." Sam breaks off and shakes his head sharply. As if the sudden movement will make Gabriel's words fit together in a way that makes sense. "How can you be sure?"

"He's my _brother_ , and I know him," Gabriel says, his voice sharp edged. Glass rattles and Elle looks up, suddenly quiet and still. Gabriel soothes her with a hand over her hair. Sam strokes a finger over the back of her tiny hand and she curls her fingers around it.

Elle reaches her hands for him, bottle abandoned. "Up."

Sam opens the highchair and lifts Elle out, holding her to his chest. The gold lion sits in the chair momentarily forgotten. "Hell changed Dean," Sam points out.

Gabriel doesn't say anything for a moment, picking up the lion and tucking it in Elle's arms. "Yeah, it did." The Archangel's hazel eyes are dark, but they don't look away from Sam's. He reaches up and rests two fingers against Sam's lips to keep him from speaking. "But he's still your brother."

Then Gabriel is turning away back towards the counter and the bowl of strawberries. "What do you think Sammy, waffles covered in strawberries for breakfast?" Gabriel asks tone light and easy.

Sam swallows and kisses Elle's head. "Sound's good to me. What do you think Elle? Want to try some waffles this morning?"

"Waffles with strawberries," Elle declares.

***

It's early, early enough that the blankets still contain the best feelings of warmth, of cradling and comfort.

There are fingers trailing up Dean's hip, just barely dipping into the curve beneath his belly before skirting back up to his side in a loop and then coming down to smooth in an uneven line up his spine. He arches into them, half awake and unthinking, and gets a soft warm kiss on the back of his neck for it. His room smells like cotton and old wood and angel; exactly how he wants it. He mumbles something, some half formed thought of concern, something that he was supposed to remember.

"Elle is downstairs with Gabriel and Sam."

Cas' voice is low and Dean can feel the hum of his words against his back. Ah, that was it, last he remembered the kid was in bed with them. Two excited angels telling him about stars and comets and having races in the wide cold swathes between them. Elle had fallen asleep on the bed between him and Cas.

Dean opens his eyes just slightly, he can't tell the time of day from half darkness. There's light spilling in from behind the curtains and Dean thinks maybe he should start moving. "I'll get up," he murmurs, stretching his limbs.

Those clever fingers stroke back up his spine with only the barest hints of pressure. "We can stay in bed a little longer," Cas says softly, nuzzling Dean's ear. Dean tips his head back towards the sound and sensation. "She is fine with them."

"Yeah," Dean agrees as Cas' fingers slip just under the waist of his sleep pants. "Sammy'll take good care of her."

There's a pause behind him, but Dean's still more asleep then awake so the moments slide together and then Cas is kissing him. The angle is awkward, but it's almost more of a nuzzle then a kiss. Dean doesn't mind. He's warm and content. He doesn't have to think about anything but Cas. Dean tries to roll over but Cas cups a hand over Dean's hip holding him in place.

"Let me take care of you," Cas tells him, pressing kisses to Dean's shoulders.

Dean relaxes. He wants to give Cas the things he wants.

Cas' mouth drags across Dean's throat, slow, wet, and gentle. Dean's head falls back, and he lets himself make hushed little sounds of pleasure and contentment. Cas' fingers stroke along his sides, then across his stomach, then up over his chest. Slow and easy, not quite teasing, but nothing urgent.

Like they have all the time in the world.

Dean reaches a hand back to thread his fingers in Cas' hair. He doesn't have to tug because the minute he lifts his head and tilts it back, Cas' mouth is over his. Cas' lips are dry against Dean's, his mouth wet and too hot to be human. The kiss is messy and perfect, and Dean thinks he could do this for days.

Cas' fingers brush against Dean's cock through the soft cotton. Dean's hips press forward and he wonders just when he'd gotten so hard. "Cas."

The words, lyrical and chiming, that Cas speaks against his skin feels like a reward. So Dean breathes out Cas' name again. The hand slides away from his cock, only for fingers to hook around Dean's waist band and tug down the soft cotton.

Dean lifts his hips without being asked and kicks them the rest of the way off. Cas showers his shoulders and neck with kisses, strokes his fingers over the hand print on Dean's shoulder, over the finger marks on Dean's hips.

"Cas," Dean groans in hushed tones. He arches and rolls his hips backwards against Cas. Cas who's gloriously naked behind him, pressing those acres of warm smooth skin against Dean's scarred body.

Dean shifts his leg forward, giving Cas room, asking without words. Cas is the only person Dean would willing beg, but Cas rarely makes him. And then only when Dean needs every ounce of control stripped from him. But that isn't now.

Now is the warmth of blankets, the stillness broken only by gasping breaths and whispered words, the knowledge that this isn't a stolen moment... It's earned. Cas' burning hot skin presses against the length of Dean, his cock hard and leaking against the small of Dean's back.

Another kiss is pressed to the top of Dean's spine. "Dilectus meus candidus et rubicundus electus ex milibus," Cas whispers against his skin; each word a brush of lips against Dean's skin.

Slick fingers part Dean's cheeks, circle his entrance. Dean doesn't remember the lube coming out, but the passing of time feels like molasses in winter, drags each moment out like forever and all Dean can focus on is Cas. Dean shifts his leg further forward and tries to push his hips back at the same time.

"Caput eius aurum optimum comae eius sicut elatae palmarum nigrae quasi corvus," Cas murmurs, nuzzling Dean's hair as he pushes a single finger into Dean.

Dean groans softly, letting his head fall back. Cas' finger moves inside him, hot and slick, setting a easy pace that Dean's hips match. "What is that?" Dean slurs, heat pooling in his stomach.

Cas hums against Dean's skin, then slides in a second finger. The fingers don't move, just rest inside Dean's body. When Dean tries to push back against them, Cas holds his hips still with a hand on his hip. Dean doesn't whimper, he doesn't because Dean Winchester doesn't whimper.

"Oculi eius sicut columbae super rivulos aquarum quae lacte sunt lotae et resident iuxta fluenta plenissima." Cas shifts against him and brushes his lips against Dean's closed eyelids. Dean opens his eyes to see Cas, eyes blown wide, a thin band of blue around pure black, pin pointed with pure light. A little bit of Cas, of the light Dean watched in the sky, bleeding through.

"Cas, c'mon," Dean tells him. There's something too hushed, too reverent about the way Cas is speaking. It feels like praise Dean isn't sure he deserves.

Cas smiles. "Be easy, Dean." Finally, _finally_ , Cas moves his fingers. Drags them slowly out, then pushes them even more slowly back in. He spreads them apart inside Dean's body, stretching Dean far more than he needs.

"I am easy," Dean jokes on a low groan. He still can't move his hips as Cas holds him still, making him just lie there and _take_.

Dean's rewarded with another slow smile this time pressed against his shoulder. He moves his arm back, the angle awkward, but he finds Cas' skin, the side of his face. Cas kisses his finger tips, kisses the palm of his hand. "Manus illius tornatiles aureae plenae hyacinthis venter eius eburneus distinctus sapphyris."

Cas' hand finally leaves his hip, gliding across Dean's stomach and chest, before palming Dean's cock. Dean arches into the touch, any breath he had to tell Cas to knock off the damn latin lost in a low, long sound of pleasure. Between his hand around Dean's cock and his fingers inside Dean, Cas sets a rhythm that sends pleasure shivering through Dean's veins in a way that Dean could bask in for hours.

Dean can't even bring himself to want urgency, it's too good and he knows Cas will take care of him.

A third finger joins the first two, and Dean can do nothing more than try to give Cas more room. The position doesn't allow him much movement, but Cas seems content and Dean's limbs feel heavy from just waking up. "Ah," Dean whispers, eyes closing again, shutting out the world even more.

"Are you ready for me?" Cas asks in his ear. He always asks. Even when it's rough, even when Dean doesn't want him to ask.

Dean nods and makes a sound that's supposed to be _yes_ but gets tangled in this throat and on his tongue. Cas seems to understand, and his fingers ease out of Dean's body.

Cas presses in. He lifts Dean's leg, arranges him, and slides in all the way in one long movement that leaves Dean shaking, gasping. He can't really thrust like this, but he rocks against Dean. Each little movement sends little sparks of pleasure jumping across Dean's nerves. Cas' hand stripes Dean's cock, his thumb stroking over the tip spreading wetness. Dean gasps and keens, his mouth hanging open.

And just like that Dean finds himself on the edge. His stomach tightens, and he can almost taste it. He just needs... he needs something but Cas keeps it easy, keeps it slow.

"Crura illius columnae marmoreae quae fundatae sunt super bases aureas species eius ut Libani electus ut cedri," Cas whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. He kisses Dean's shoulders, neck, cheek, any part of Dean he can reach. Finally, Cas' tongue runs over his mark on Dean's shoulder, and Dean falls.

"Cas, Cas, Cas." Dean tumbles into his orgasm, gasping and shuddering. He spills over Cas' hand, and everything goes white behind his eyelids.

Cas is still rocking against him, hard and hot inside, when Dean resurfaces. His mouth drags against Dean's neck, and his wet, sticky hand is splayed across Dean's stomach.

"Love you," Dean manages to say, his tongue still heavy.

Behind him, Cas keens, his hips jerking forward. "Guttur...guttur illius suavissimum et totus desiderabilis talis," Cas half wails. The windows shiver as if pressed by wind.

Cas gathers Dean close; buries his face in the crook of Dean's neck and pushes in as deep as he can go. Dean feels the full body shudder as Cas comes, feels him spilling deep inside him. Then Cas sags against him, trembling.

"Est dilectus meus et iste est amicus meus," Cas whispers. "Est dilectus meus."

Dean shifts, letting Cas ease out of him, before turning. He takes in the sight of Cas, lips bitten red, mouth slick, and he has to kiss him. Dean pushes his fingers through Cas' hair, runs his fingertips down Cas' spine. "What was that last part?" Dean asks, not expecting an answer.

"This is my beloved," Cas tells him after a moment's hesitation. "Latin... It is not my tongue but it is beautiful."

"Est dilectus meus," Dean whispers back, fumbling the pronunciation but meaning every word. It's a chick flick moment but Dean doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care.

Cas' smile is brighter than the dawn.

***

Castiel stops at the top of the stairs, watching. He'd left Dean cleaned up and sated in bed with a promise to return after checking on Elle. It felt strange to have the time now; to have family again to help take care of things. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until that morning, until he'd been aware that, for now, he had nothing he absolutely had to do. He'd spoken to Gabriel last night of his search for Father and Gabriel told him that he'd sent Barachiel to look into the places that Castiel couldn't. Gabriel had plans, Gabriel had _people_. Gabriel grinned, familiar and easy, and told him to not worry. Castiel couldn't help but feel that the Archangel was making up for lost time. Or perhaps Gabriel had other reasons.

The noises from downstairs were quiet, hushed and it was the quiet that had made Castiel pause. Sam was on the couch, dozing, a book lying open on his chest and Gabriel stood over him with Elle in the crook of his arm. Gabriel's fingers were clever and quick over Sam's brow, weaving protection and safety as Elle peers down, curious. Gabriel smoothes Sam's hair out of his eyes before walking around the couch and settling on the floor at the younger Winchesters side, talking softly to Elle and rocking her. Castiel blinks, there are chairs free in the living room but...

Slowly, he wonders if he's missed something, because he remembers Michael and the Morningstar. He remembers how mated angels used to sit. In perfect pairs, one below the other.

Sam shifts in his sleep and Castiel sees Gabriel stiffen the exact moment that the human's fingers brush across the back of the Archangel's neck. Sam rests them there and Gabriel sighs, a soft contented noise, and leans his head back to bask in the barest of touches.

Silently, Castiel turns and makes his way back to the bedroom. Elle is fine, safe and he is in no way what Dean would call a "cock block". He can't blame his brother though. Some humans are simply compelling, he's found that out. Though it is odd to think of Gabriel in this way and Sam is not what he would have expected his brother to covet. But then he never expected to find _want_ unfurling in his chest as he pulled Dean's soul from hell.

He stops in the doorway to the bedroom, taking in the sight of Dean tangled in the sheets. At rest, at peace, something so rare for his mate. He knows that they can't hold the storm off forever. Lucifer will try something, or Zachariah or... He cannot allow this to end badly. He can't even entertain the idea anymore. Not with Elle here. He didn't think that there could be any more at stake but now...

"You just gonna stare or you gonna get over here?" Dean's drawl is sleepy but sure.

A smile quirks at the corner of his lips and he wonders how they started coming to him so easily now. Dean's eyes are half open and he's glaring as Castiel shuts the door and slides back into bed. Dean grumbles and tugs at Castiel's shirt until he acquiesces and removes it, letting his mate, his human mate splay across him. Angels hadn't been encouraged to mate since Lucifer fell. It made them soft...

Prone to mistakes...

Human.

Father hadn't made him and his siblings to feel, he'd made them to obey and to obey was all they should have needed. But too much has started to seep in around the edges and Father hadn't been around for a very long time. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean, pulling him as close as possible. His orders were to protect Dean, and he obeyed. He still obeys, just in his own way. Perhaps they are all still obeying, but there's no one around any longer to tell them how. Zachariah called it chaos, orderless... But Castiel thinks that it might be closer to a sort of freedom.

To free will.

Dean shifts, nosing his way against Castiel's neck before he settles.

Castiel sighs, a soft contented noise. He allows himself to simply be.

***

Something angelic pricks at the back of Gabriel's mind. He'd been sitting on the floor pretending to read, listening to Sam turn the pages of his book behind him. Sam's still so tired and Gabriel wonders how much sleep the boy has lost in fear of Lucifer paying a visit.

Gabriel unfolds himself from the floor, rising to his feet. Sam's eyes shift from the large tome in his lap up to Gabriel, and Gabriel would like to flatter himself that it's because Sam doesn't want him moving then curiosity.

He tilts his head to the side slightly... Castiel is with Bobby down in the cellar making sure the panic room sigils and wards are holding up. Dean is in the kitchen, gun parts strewn across the table as he methodically cleans them. Elle is fast asleep in her crib after spending the first part of the day climbing over every person that would let her and trying her best to get to point B from point A under the power of her own little legs.

So it isn't Cas and it isn't Elle.

Gabriel listens again. It's like the sound of a far off conversation, or a car on the street. Muffled. Two of his siblings approaching the well warded "base" the Winchesters had set up at Bobby's home. It isn't a fast approach, and once... once Gabriel would have known them even at this distance. Something twists inside his chest, and maybe he's been in this body too long.

"Gabriel?" Sam's voice is low, eyes watchful.

_Just one damn day,_ Gabriel thinks. _Couldn't they all just have one damn day._ "It's..." Then Gabriel hears it. Bickering. And he knows who it is.

He has to laugh because of _course_ they'd be bickering. The twins had found a reason to bicker less than two days after they were made. Michael had once threatened to hang them both from the stars by their ankles if they didn't give everyone a moments peace. "Two more for dinner I think."

Sam sits up. "Two more... Gabriel? Who the hell is coming?" There's fear and accusation there, that makes Gabriel bristle, kills the warmth that spread through him like a traitorous creeping vine while he'd sat there.

"No one any of you need to fear," Gabriel tells him sharply.

Something in his face must have betrayed him, because Sam's fingers encircled his wrist. "Want me to come help you be the welcoming committee?" Sam asks.

Gabriel takes a breath, then shakes his head, then sighs. "You're going to pout if I say no aren't you?"

"I don't pout," Sam grumbles, sitting the book aside. He climbs off the couch, stretching as he does... and Gabriel always forgets how _tall_ Sam is.

"And you don't cry your way through sex either," Gabriel smirks, heading out onto the porch. He can hear the bickering getting closer. Something about a boyfriend... oh this is going to be good.

Gabriel can just picture the face Sam makes as he mutters. "I do not cry through sex."

"Of course you don't," Gabriel chuckles. Because saying "You going to let me find out?" will lead to nothing but trouble. Good and bad trouble. Sam is all sorts of trouble, demon tainted, and in some ways so damn young. He leans against on of the pillars holding up the roof of the porch and waits for his younger siblings to land.

Sam takes up position just behind him, and Gabriel tries not to think about what that would mean if Sam were an angel, just as the sound of wings ripple through the air.

"You didn't even _knock_!" a female voice snaps.

"Oi, I shouldn't have to knock. There should've been nothing for me to interrupt," Barachiel snaps back.

There's the sound of wings bristling and then the female voice. "Gabriel..."

"Anna?!" Sam yelps.

Gabriel doubles over laughing.

Anna turns slightly and smiles at Sam. "Hi Sam," she says cheerfully, then glares at Gabriel. "Gabriel, did you send this reprobate to find me? Do none of you know how to call or use doors?"

Barachiel snorts, but he's looking at Gabriel and Sam with the sort of speculation that means Gabriel is going to be teased later.

She whips her head around towards Barachiel. "Or _knock_. Your hands don't look broken, Barach."

Gabriel snaps his fingers and offers his new acquired bowl of popcorn to Sam. It gets him a raised eyebrow, but Sam takes some. And yeah this is going to be good. Gabriel had forgotten how much fun Barachiel and Anael arguing could be.

"Angels don't knock, Anael," Barach points out, yanking his hat off and running his fingers through his hair.

She glares at him. "Anna. I go by Anna now. I only told you that at least a dozen times."

"It's a human name," Barach grumbles. "Father gave you a perfectly good name."

"Well I _was_ a human, and my parents gave me a perfectly good name. I'm now Anna," she tells him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think Father would understand."

Gabriel turns his head slightly towards Sam, ignoring his bickering siblings for a moment. "You knew Anna as human right?"

Sam nods. "Yeah. Well Dean _knew_ her best. So to speak." Color creeps across Sam's face. "Uhm, did Cas know she was coming?"

"She had sex with Dean?" Gabriel asks, because okay that was new information. "She had sex with her brother's... and Dean, what decided to see how many angels he could bang?"

He gets bitchface and a sharp glare for that. "No. Dean wouldn't do that. Not to Cas. They weren't... I don't even think Cas knew what he wanted from Dean yet. He was still reading from Zachariah's playbook then. And Anna was human."

Before Gabriel can respond there's a sudden raise in volume from the arguing pair.

"'Cause I wanted to see my twin sister's human vessel in the all together lettin' some demon paw at her!" Barach's half shouts.

A demon was... "A demon?" Gabriel repeats incredulously. He's had his share of pagan demi-gods and goddesses in his bed over the centuries but he drew the line at demons. He can't imagine any angel, fallen or not, allowing a demon to touch them willingly. And that meant... "What did he do to you?"

Because if some demon dared _touch_ his sister he'll show him just why he was the Angel of Judgment.

"Crowley doesn't do anything I don't want him to," Anna says in a slightly exasperated tone.

"Crowley? As in the demon Crowley who had the Colt?" Sam breaks in.

Anna smiles and nods. "I told him he needed to trust you and Dean and give it to you." Her face falls. "I... I'm sorry it didn't work. I heard about Ellen and Jo, Sam, I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't your fault," Sam says, his voice rough.

Gabriel doesn't allow himself to turn and look at Sam. If he looks he'll have to see that open devastation. He'd have to remember that he could have prevented it. So he focuses on Anna, and tries to remember how her grace once looked.

Barachiel has fallen silent and it occurs to Gabriel that he doesn't know who Castiel named Elle for. He never met the woman himself but Cas thought highly of her, and that was good enough for him in this case.

"I'll go give Dean the heads up you're here," Sam says and Gabriel hears him retreat into the house.

"Barachiel, did you fill Anna in on the situation?" Gabriel asks when Sam is gone.

Anna shakes her head. "No, he just said that you and the Winchesters needed assistance. Though I was hesitant after my last encounter with Castiel." She scowls. "Your fledgling sold me out to Zachariah. I'm still not happy about that. And that re-education program Zachariah is running... who thought letting him have any power was a good idea? And don't say _Father_ because the position Father left him in didn't have any power like this."

Gabriel scowls. "Castiel did what?" he demands sharply. Another thing Castiel as been keeping from him?

Anna's face softens. "He did it for Dean though, so I'll forgive him. I think the poor thing was in love with Dean since the moment he pulled him from hell. He just didn't know what to do with it."

Barachiel shrugs. "Mated now though. Reckon Cas figured it out."

"Good," Anna says, bouncing up on the tip of her toes with a bit of the energy Gabriel remembers her having. "Now why _am_ I here? I doubt it was so you could eat popcorn and watch me yell at Barachiel for being an idiot. Which you are, Barach, by the way."

Barachiel glares at her. "Don't see how it's my fault you've gotten all tangled up with a demon that couldn't even come up with an original name."

Anna sniffs. "Crowley is a perfectly fine name."

"And already being used by a demon much older than yours and much higher up on the food chain," Barach snorts.

Gabriel glares at them both and there's the sound of rolling thunder in the distance because he's at the end of his tolerance now. "Are you both quite _finished_?"

Both angels quiet and look downwards. "Yes, Gabriel," they both say in their own tongue.

"Good," Gabriel raises his chin slightly. "Barachiel, how go the preparations for that mission we discussed?"

"Complete, I can head out at any time. With Zachariah still out of commission things are in a bit of disarray. It should be no problem," Barachiel assures him in their own tongue.

Gabriel nods. "I want you to leave immediately then. The sooner we know how he sides on this, the better." Barachiel will be fine, it's an easy mission and Barachiel is the only one that can pull it off.

Barachiel brings his fists up over his heart and bows his head. "At once, Gabriel."

"Be safe, brother," Gabriel tells him.

He gets a nod before Barachiel launches himself skyward.

"Anna," Gabriel says, turning to look at her.

She raises her head. "What do you wish of me, brother?" And it's almost all Anael, the soldier, the garrison leader.

Gabriel feels an anxious clawing at his throat. This is too much like... he shakes it off and forces a smile. That's easy enough, he's had practice at that. He vanishes the bowl of popcorn and produces two candy bars out of thin air and tosses one to her. He switches back to English as he tells her, "Come say hello to the new fledgling."

Anna stands open-mouthed for a few moments. "The new fledgling?" she echos back. There's a flash of horror in her eyes. "Gabriel, please tell me that..."

"No, no, as far as I know those rituals are thankfully lost," Gabriel assures her quickly. He can't be upset at her for having the same instinctive fear, she was the one after all that had to put their sister out of her misery. He'd been thankful that Barachiel's optimism and excitement (and knowing several pagan goddess) had kept him from jumping to such a conclusion. "Fertility goddess decided Castiel and Dean needed a little one."

Anna's face goes through quite a comical set of expressions, before she just sighs. "That would explain why I heard rumors of Zachariah having a figurative coronary. Crowley thought he'd just popped in on Dean and Cas having sex."

"Yes, about Crowley, we're going to have a long _talk_ about that later," Gabriel tells her. She pales and bites her lip. If this wasn't Anael, who loved humans so, who loved the world so, he would worry that she was on Lucifer's side. "First you're going to come meet our niece."

Gabriel turns and leads her into the house.

***

Some part of Barachiel, some tiny part thought that heaven should probably have better security. Maybe some guards or wards or something. Honestly, he'd been thrown out of pubs for doing less than this. He made his way carefully through the shining city. That was pretty much the best representation of heaven as anything but light and sound. It was... It wasn't what Barachiel remembered. He remembered the light and laughter of heaven. The glorious warmth. This place was... different. He hadn't been back in years, after Gabriel had kipped off and Anael disappearing to Earth more often than not, there hadn't been a real reason to stay. Everyone got left to their own devices, maybe if he'd bloody paid more attention then Zachariah wouldn't have started this whole damn mess.

It was cool here and everything looked the same. An unending ripple of gray and paleness. Barachiel sighed, this wasn't home at all. He hurried then, not wanting to remember what this place was before Father left his children to fumble in the dark.

There were other angels about, though most of them didn't pay him any mind. Most of them were in their glittering forms of space and power but there were a scattered few that were in vessels, and Barachiel had taken pains to blend in. Meaning he was in a suit with his hair slicked back and looked like a right twat.

He had some idea of where Michael was holed up. There was a pillar, far away from where the Archangel used to live with the Morningstar, where Michael supposedly ruled. The place where Zachariah would disappear to, or on occasion, Raphael. Now Barachiel had thought that this might be tricky. He was armed and prepared to fight, but when he turned the corner and saw the door, there were only two nits in vessels talking about the weather and they'd taken a long look at him before he'd told them Zachariah sent him and they'd nodded.

Bob's your Uncle and he was in.

Maybe it was a trap, maybe he'd been on Earth too long and had seen too many spy movies or maybe...

Or maybe Michael really just didn't give two shits anymore.

There is the impression of vastness, of greatness and grandeur, but it really is just bland and pale like everything else had become.

And Michael is there.

For a moment it's like the old times, Michael wreathed in fire just fiddling around with his papers. Barachiel doesn't know what to do for a moment, he'd expected wards or traps, he expected Michael to have been tricked into one of those prisons that Anael has spoken of, that Anael had been _put_ in. He'd expected Michael to call in guards the second he set foot anywhere.

He didn't expect...

"Report."

Ummm, shit. Of all the damn times for his mind to go blank.

"Well, um, Bora Bora's nice this time of year. An' they're making the good Coke again. TV's are huge and in color. So 'er movies. Also, Gabriel says you're an arse but you didn't hear it from me."

Slowly, Michael lowers the book he'd been studying and levels his gaze. "Barachiel?"

"Nah, it's Anael, I just thought this was a much more fetching vessel. Nice teeth."

For a moment Michael looks vacant before he shakes his head. "You don't change, Barachiel."

"Didn't know I was supposed to. Must have missed that bit," Barachiel fidgets as Michael lays the book aside and stands, coming to inspect his brother. Barachiel takes a step back without thinking about it.

"I haven't seen you in..."

"Decades, Michael," Barachiel stands straight and tries to not bite his lip. Michael is slow, listless, his grace is muted... Silence passes for far too long and Barachiel clears his throat without thinking about it. "Michael?"

"Hmm?" Michael seems to remember what he's doing. "Decades? Really? It hasn't seemed that long. What have you been doing?"

"Raphael's had me in London." Blank. "England." Blank. "Britain? Europe?" Finally, Michael nods.

Oh, for fuck's sake. "You know, those orders? To watch that angel and that demon? See what horrible things they are up to? Do you remember that?"

Michael turns and sits again, shuffling through papers. "I think so. Was this before the third war?"

"No, it wasn't before the bloody third war."

Michael 'hmm's' again and Barachiel tries not to scream. Everything he imagined, this is worse. This is worse than anything Zachariah could have done because Barachiel has the feeling, the sickening realization that maybe Michael did this to himself. There aren't any sigils here, no black magic, Michael hasn't been compromised or imprisoned, he's just been left alone. The only one up here telling him whatever he bloody well wanted was... Zachariah.

Shit.

"It was after the wars, Michael. We haven't had any wars in _ages_. The only war is the one that's coming."

Michael nods in a way that Barachiel can't tell if he's listening or not.

"The war, Michael!? Heaven and hell, the bloody fucking end to Earth!?" Barachiel's voice crackles and Michael still doesn't look up.

"Zachariah is in charge of Earth. He says everything is under control so..."

Gabriel sent him up here to explain, he sent him up to be level headed and learn the lay of the land and... "It bloody well is not! What's goin' on, Michael? Is this what you do? Father left you in charge to sit up here and piss about while everything goes to shit? You're telling me that you don't have a fucking clue what's been going on!?"

Michael looks confused and perhaps just the slightest bit hurt. "Zachariah assured me that..."

"Zachariah is lying!" The statement echoes, it bounces off of blank walls and very suddenly Barachiel knows exactly how Gabriel was feeling when he showed up at the front gate without a damned idea about anything. "Nothing is under control! Zachariah is fucking it all up! Zachariah is commanding angels! He's commanding bloody Archangels! He had Raphael fucking try an' kill Castiel!"

Barachiel is screaming like a barmy drunk now but at least Michael has looked up, he's listening. Even if he's shaking his head and furiously trying to return to his papers. "I never... Castiel?"

"Yes! Castiel! The fledgling! Who's mated and has a little'un of his own that the bloody prophet tried to _kill_ the other day! Gabriel saved them! Gabriel's back! Did you even notice that he left?"

"Gabriel?"

It's like talking to a small child.

"Zachariah is speaking in your stead. He's been punishing angels that he says are disobeying. He bloody _tortured_ Anael! Michael!?"

Michael is sitting there, with his papers in his lap, just as blank and lost as he'd been when...

"There are fucking _horsemen_ down there, Michael. _Lucifer_ is down there, Michael."

The book hits the ground with a 'thud', pages splaying open as the binding twists. Barachiel can't even feel anger anymore, he's not even sure he should pity whatever his brother's become.

"Lord Michael?" And the two twats are suddenly there in their borrowed skin, posturing around like bouncers on a Friday night.

"An' you just sat up here," Barachiel breathes. "An' did nothing about it."

"Lord..." Michael raises his hand before they have a chance to ask again.

Michael stands and Barachiel turns before he can say anything. He doesn't think that there's anything Michael can say to ease or erase this jagged feeling of helplessness, of loss. He doesn't know this person. He doesn't know anything anymore.

Barachiel is gone in a flash of wings.

***

"Shit!" Dean jumps about a foot and a half when Barachiel pops into the kitchen.

Gabriel and Cas are scrambling off the couch and Anna instinctively covers Elle who's in her lap. Sam and Bobby come pounding up the stairs from the panic room.

"What the hell, Barach? I thought I said to not just teleport in here," Gabriel growls. "It messes with the wards, you _know_ that."

But Dean is watching Barachiel, who is a man... well, an angel on a mission. He's opening all the cupboards and raking his hand through his hair until it's sticking up again. He's wearing a suit that makes him look like a total tool and he's lucky he didn't get shot. They gather in the kitchen as Barachiel finally finds a new bottle of whiskey, he lets out a triumphant cry and twists the top off.

The entire house watches him drain the bottle in one go. Huh, guess Sam was right, angels really don't have to breathe.

"I take it that your mission did not go well?" Gabriel offers.

"Oh, it was fucking luvvly-jubbly. Wonderful. Loved every minute of it." Barachiel has his eyes closed and is pressing the empty whiskey bottle to his forehead.

"Did you find him?" Gabriel asks.

"Find who?" Anna hisses.

"Michael," Sam breathes.

" _Yes_."

The entire kitchen falls silent. Dean swallows. Elle is watching all of this with wide blue eyes, more curious than anything else and Castiel has just gone pale.

Wait. What? How the fuck is Sam in on this 'mission' and he's just...

"Well?" Gabriel is hesitant, but he's the only one that's taken a step towards Barachiel so far.

"Well," Barachiel growls. "He's not giving out any orders."

Gabriel cringes and now all the angels in the room have gone pale.

"What the hell does that mean?" Bobby frowns. "And you're replacing that."

"It means that Michael the fucking Archangel is so fucking out of it that I doubt he could find his own arse right now without a map and a Sherpa," Barachiel hisses and turns to the kitchen sink, dropping the empty bottle into it with a clatter.

Dean knows this isn't good, because if Michael is out of it then who the fuck wants him? If Michael isn't giving orders or pulling strings...

Elle whimpers, sharp and high, and the whole company turns. Anna is crying and Elle is patting her face in distress. Dean steps forward but Cas is closer and takes her arm and guides her back into the living room, taking Elle from her as they went. Gabriel has sagged against the kitchen table and Sam is right behind him, as if he's worried the Archangel would collapse.

"What did you tell him, Barach?" Gabriel's hands are white knuckled on the back of a kitchen chair.

Barachiel doesn't turn. He just sighs and hangs his head. "I'm sorry Gabriel. I got angry and I... my mouth got away from me. I don't even... I'm not even sure he's going to remember anything I said anyway."

"He's not going to help us, is he?" Sam reaches up and tentatively touches Gabriel's shoulder.

"Doubtful," Gabriel frowns.

"Help?" Dean has had about enough of this shit. Why the hell would Michael help them? Why the hell would Sam even think that? What the fuck was with his brother and the angel and this chick flick touching all of a sudden?

"It was a theory," Gabriel turns to Dean. "A theory that maybe Michael wasn't the one behind this. If Barachiel didn't know what was going on then I wasn't sure _who_ did."

"You're telling me that, Michael, the Archangel who's supposed to use me as a condom doesn't know that!?"

It's official now. He's married an angel, he's got a magical love baby, and everything he thought he had to worry about just got fucked in eighteen random directions.

Barachiel turns, wiping his face with the corner of his sleeve. He sniffs and takes a breath. "Michael didn't even know what decade it was, much less what the hell was going on down here. He kept saying that Zachariah had it under control. I don't think he's bothered to check anything in years, if ever. He just let Zachariah do whatever the hell he thought best."

Oh, that son of a bitch. That smooth talking piece of shit.

"Gabriel! Dean!"

Dean is moving before he even knows it because that was not Cas' calm voice. That was the "get your gun" voice and he has no problem with shooting something right now.

Cas is already backing towards the panic room with Elle in his arms as Anna looks out the window. Bobby has stiffened as everyone goes on fucking red alert. Dean goes to Cas and looks down at Elle, who is just silent, clutching her lion and Castiel's tie. She's hushed, matching her father's stare out the front window.

"What is it?" Sam asks as Gabriel pushes past Bobby into the living room with Barachiel on his heels.

There's a figure in gray in the yard, on the _other side of the goddamn wards_ , looking over a junked car curiously. Anna turns as Gabriel cusses. Oh great.

"Remiel," Anna says with way too much purpose and worry for Dean's liking.

"Oh, fucking hell," Barachiel looks out the window once, quick, before turning back. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

"Another angel?" Dean snaps, if someone doesn't tell him what the hell is going on right now...

"An archangel," Anna murmurs.

"A fucking _fallen_ archangel," Barachiel finishes. "Fell with the Morningstar."

Shit. _Shit_.

Sam makes a half strangled sound in his throat. And Gabriel is strangely quiet.

Dean's not sure he even _wants_ to know, because there's one of Lucifer's lieutenants in Bobby's yard, and he's going to pretend that Sam's worried about what's going to be done to make him say yes and not for any other reason. He wraps his fingers around Cas' wrist as it's the only skin he can reach. Dean thinks about the Colt and wonders if it would take down a fallen angel like it wouldn't Lucifer.

Remiel looks at them, as if he can see straight through the house, looks at Elle. The fallen angel bows his head slightly, and all of the angels look pissed and scared at the same time. Then he turns away and walks towards the gate. It opens for him and Remiel walks through the wards like they're nothing.

_Shit_.


	7. Chapter Six: Since I've Been Loving You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winchesters don't do anything the easy way or by halves, and neither do Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note from the original posting in 2010: 
> 
> A/N: Major thanks to sweetsyren for putting up with how long these parts are getting. Also we've broken Big Bang word count, too bad this isn't a Big Bang. Whoops? Also, I direct your attention to homg! Baby!Cas fan art by ani_bester http://community.livejournal.com/ameonna1_writes/6645.html

Chapter Six: Since I've Been Loving You

_“Good angels are fallible ... they sin every day and fall from Heaven like flies.”_ \- Anatole France (from The Revolt of the Angels)

Moments pass where Gabriel is sincerely regretting ever telling the Winchesters who he was or letting Castiel find him again. He is far too old for the kind of passive aggressive bullshit that Remiel was famous for. He could get the humans in the panic room. Hell, he could get everyone out of here with a snap of his fingers. But that would just buy them time and he couldn't think of another place with as many pre-placed wards than Bobby's.

"Someone has to go out there and see what he wants," Anna frowns.

"Not it," Barachiel says before she's even done with her sentence.

The whole room stares at him where he's very purposefully standing against the wall so he isn't seen out any of the windows.

Gabriel sighs. "Barach..."

But Barachiel just shakes his head. " No, don't care, I'm not fucking kidding. I'm not going out there."

"I'll go."

One by one they turn to Castiel. Dean's eyes are wide and he looks like he's three seconds away from shaking his head but he holds it. Gabriel's a little proud of that. Maybe these humans _can_ learn.

"Are you sure?" Dean hisses. "I mean, this guy sounds like trouble."

"I do not think he will wish to fight," Castiel murmurs over Elle's head, trying to reassure his mate.

"No," Gabriel growls. "He's just gonna want to mindfuck everyone like he always does."

"I'll go with you," Anna nods, turning from the window to Castiel.

"No," Gabriel says at the same time as Barachiel.

He resists the urge to rub his temples because really, it won't help. "I'll go out with Castiel. Barachiel start working on shoring up the wards on the house itself. Bobby, would you help him? It's your home and you know your existing wards best. Someone take Elle down to the panic room," he pauses and focuses on Sam. "I'd tell you to go down there but I don't think you _or_ your brother would listen."

Dean takes Elle from Cas' arms. "I'll go with her," he says in a tone that broaches no argument. Well, it would if you weren't Gabriel. "Be careful Cas."

"Remiel has never been fond of direct confrontation," Cas assures him.

Gabriel resists rolling his eyes. "Fine then. Anna help with the wards and try to keep the arguing to a minimum."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Any marching orders for me commander?"

"Yeah," Gabriel says already knowing he's going to regret this. He sets his jaw and _reaches_ drawing one of his blades into this plane. He hands it to Sam ignoring the looks from his brothers and sister. "Take this and guard the door."

He gestures with his head to Castiel, who follows him out the door.

"Gabriel, was giving Samuel your blade... wise?" Castiel asks quietly.

"Define wise," Gabriel mutters. He is not going to hear the end of anything now, but it wouldn't do if Remiel was just the distraction for something else. They needed some protection and he knew Sam could wield it.

Remiel is on the other side of the gate, leaning on it nonchalantly and examining the buttons on the sleeve of his coat. He's turned to the sun, seemingly just enjoying the air. He doesn't turn when they approach or even take notice that they're there.

"Remiel," Gabriel growls.

He's ignored completely for a few moments before the fallen archangel yawns, then turns and looks at Gabriel like he's nothing very impressive and then smiles politely at Castiel before inclining his head in the barest of nods, bringing his hands to his front. He greets him in their tongue using the formal words for family as if nothing has changed at all.

"What the hell are you getting at, Remiel?" Gabriel hisses as Castiel blinks.

Gabriel is once again ignored in favor of Castiel. Remiel is waiting, politely for something. For Castiel. Gabriel hates this, hates figuring out what rules the crazy bastard is operating under. Remiel is all logic and calculated numbers. He could be brutally efficient if he needed to be and he had a twisted sense of humor.

Finally, Castiel dips his head slightly in greeting before he in turn greets Remiel in their tongue, Gabriel is a bit smug that Castiel does _not_ use the formal words for family. "Remiel, please state your business," Castiel finishes in English.

"My Lord, bade me to come."

Shit, shit. There was only one 'Lord' for Remiel now and it sure as hell wasn't their Father. Castiel takes in a slow breath, but doesn't waver. He doesn't give Remiel that inch.

"And what exactly did your... Lord tell you to do? If you would, please."

Gabriel knows that it's the 'please' that does it, a tiny almost imperceptible smile flickers at the edges of Remiel's lips.

"My Lord bade me to simply observe and report. I must admit, I am almost appalled at the lack of security protocol your people are operating under."

That was it, Gabriel thought, he was going to kill Barach. He doesn't know how long Remiel must have been waiting for that split second gap between the wards to slip through and if the bastard hadn't just been _toying_ with them, that could have cost them, that could have cost them so much.

"And your secondary orders?" Castiel asks, evenly.

Remiel pauses, just for a moment, before he sighs. "My secondary orders are to protect the fledgling at any cost."

"Define "protect"."

"No."

For a moment it's just Remiel and Castiel staring each other down and Gabriel couldn't put money on who would win that. Neither seems to look away first, it's just over and Castiel is sighing, something heavy and annoyed.

"If you harm her, I will find a way to kill you," Castiel says matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about the sky being blue.

"I do not doubt that for an instant, but as I said my orders are to protect not to harm."

"Orders change."

"They do."

"You will not cross the wards again," it's a mixture of a statement and a question, something hesitant and Gabriel swallows, tensing for a moment.

Remiel smiles, a slow indulgent thing. "I perceived a sudden breach in your wards so I followed, expecting danger. I know now that I was mistaken. You can tell that idiot he can stop hiding behind doors, I know he's in there."

Castiel frowns. "I will pass your message on. Remiel..."

"Ah, ah," Remiel holds a finger up. "You know I don't take orders from you, so don't even try. Wipe that purposeful look off your face."

Gabriel huffed and leaned against the gate. This wasn't going to go anywhere. He could probably chase Remiel off if he had to but that was a dangerous move. If Remiel was provoked he could probably find a way to tear the house apart, board by board. Castiel had the right idea and even though Gabriel really wanted to know everything that Lucifer had told Remiel, he knew that bastard wasn't going to share anything he didn't want to.

"You will be content to watch?" Castiel asks.

Remiel inclines his head just slightly. "If my orders change, I'm sure you'll be the first to know."

They watch him make his way down the road, counting out a perimeter before he fades from their sight.

"He's not going to just leave," Gabriel frowns, he has a headache and he just wants to snap his fingers and not be here. If he could just be anywhere but here.

"I know," Castiel sighs, before turning. He looks tired... worn. The need to leave falters in Gabriel. Leaving isn't going to help anything, he'd known that years ago. He just wishes it wasn't so hard to pretend anymore.

"Is it wrong..." Castiel starts before looking up at the sky and the scattering of clouds. "Is it wrong that I am relieved that he was not sent by Zachariah? Lucifer at least will not hurt her."

Gabriel swallows and shakes his head. "No, it isn't wrong. Though I wish he hadn't shown up at all. We're on edge enough as it is."

"True," Castiel nods as they make their way back to the house. "Though it could have been...."

"Don't you even finish that sentence and doom us all."

***

"What I want to know," Bobby was saying as Dean got back upstairs with Elle who, surprisingly, had fallen fast asleep on his shoulder, "is how he got through the wards?" Bobby glares at Barachiel who looks more than a little guilty and sheepish.

Anna had come down and given him the all clear as well as a short heads up about what had happened outside. Out of the window Dean can see Cas, Gabriel, and Anna talking in front of the porch. Anna keeps glancing towards the gates while Cas keeps glancing towards the house. Sam's leaning against the wall right by the front door, still holding the blade Gabriel gave him. Dean keeps trying to decide what it looks like but it keeps slipping away from him.

Barach hangs his head, twisting his hat in his hands. "Wasn't thinkin' straight, sorry."

Dean snorts and gently places Elle in her crib. He strokes his fingers over her tiny features, before covering her with a blanket. "It's already done, you can't change it," Dean says as he straightens. "I think the more pressing issue is _how_ Lucifer knew where to find us and how he knew about Elle?"

There's a sharp inhale of breath and Dean jerks his head towards the source. Sam is looking towards the crib and Dean knows that look. He _knows_ that look, and _oh God, Sammy please don't have done this_.

Bobby's chair sounds loud and grating as it scrapes the floor as he gets to his feet. He casts a look at each of the brothers, shaking his head. "I think I'll check on what those idjits outside are doing," he snorts, "Never had this much trouble with my wards before all these _angels_ started showing up," Bobby slaps Sam on the shoulder and squeezes it as he passes by on his way out, closing the door behind him. Dean almost resents it.

Sam's fingers curl tighter around Gabriel's blade. He looks like he wishes the floor would swallow him up. "Uhm, Dean? We need to talk."

Something like rage washes over Dean. It's cold, ice gripping his chest, and without thinking he puts himself between the crib and Sam. "You didn't. I swear, Sam, tell me you didn't. Tell me after _everything_ I have done for you, that you didn't do this."

Barachiel is quiet but doesn't move, Dean can see the inhuman stillness of the Archangel out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't give a shit. If the guy wants front row seats let him have them.

"Cas was supposed to tell you," Sam says, then shakes his head. "But I should have told you _weeks_ ago. I'm sorry Dean. I thought I was handling it."

Dean advances a step. "Tell me what Sam? And why did Cas know before me?"

Sam finally meets his eyes and the fear there almost takes Dean aback. Dean -- he's forgiven Sam so much but this is his daughter's safety. Sam's his brother, that's never going to change, but he can't --

"Gabriel told him. Gabriel... he woke me up from it," the words leave Sam in a rush. "I've been... I've been having dreams about Lucifer. No, not about him, really I guess. He shows up in them. The first time he was... he was.... he was wearing Jess and he..." Sam trails off closing his eyes for a moment.

Dean's fists clench and unclench. Lucifer got into his baby brother's head and did God knows what to him, but Sam didn't tell him. Sam didn't say one damn word about it. Not even after they'd reunited, after Zachariah had sent him to that horrible future were Sam was nothing but a shell and Cas was... Cas was...

Sam is still speaking and he's moved closer to Dean. "Dean, I thought they were over with. I hadn't had one in over two weeks and I thought the nightmares were just nightmares. I was going to tell you but you had so much else to deal with, and then you had Elle."

"What happened?" Dean demands.

"Lucifer showed up again last night," Sam says softly, so softly Dean almost can't hear him. "He... when he comes into my dreams he or my subconscious makes the "room" look like wherever we're staying. Normally just empty motel rooms with empty beds."

Dean narrows his eyes. "And how would he figure out anything from your empty bedroom? What did you give him a map to Bobby's house or just loudly proclaim where we were staying at?"

Sam shudders. "I didn't tell him anything!" His voice raises to almost a shout. "I didn't tell him a damn thing! He just -- knew -- maybe it was because Gabriel pulled me out so he just looked for him. Or maybe he's known where we are the whole damn time! I don't know!"

"Well then _how_ the _hell_ did he know about Elle?!" Dean yells.

Sam opens his mouth, and all Dean sees is red. His fist swings before he fully thinks it through. The blow connects with Sam's stomach sending him stumbling back a few steps. Dean expects Sam to swing back, to get pissed. They've done this before. They've never been afraid to trade blows in anger.

But it doesn't happen. Elle starts crying in her crib, a scared plaintive wail.

"I... I feel asleep on the couch, Dean. He saw the crib," Sam's voice crumbles into nothing. His shoulders slump as if he could curl in on himself and avoid Dean's anger. It's only then that Dean really remembers that Sam is holding a blade. "I didn't tell him, though. He thought it was mine, and I was going to let him think that. So you could be safe, so Elle could be safe, but he saw the lion in the crib and he _knew_. I'm sorry."

Dean clenches his jaw. "Not good enough." He turns and walks over to the crib. "Shh, it's okay baby girl. It's okay. I've got you." Dean picks up the baby, cuddling her to his chest. She still cries, little wails intermixed with that angel language, and bit of English like "loud" and "daddy".

Behind him Dean hears the front door open and close, sharp and hard. Dean strokes his hand down Elle's back.

***

The late afternoon air is cool enough that it pricks Sam's skin and makes his lung burn like he'd inhaled mint. The wood porch creaks under his feet as he makes his way across it. He sits down heavily on the edge, and gazes out on the familiar shapes of Bobby and the angels. Gabriel's back is turned to Sam, but he focuses on the line of Gabriel's back, the surety in his skin showing in the way Gabriel moves.

It's... comforting in a way it probably shouldn't be. And Sam finds himself wishing that Gabriel was sitting near him like they had on the couch. Which is silly and stupid and not the thing he should be thinking about after what happened with Dean. He knew Dean would be angry. He knew this last lie might be what broke the camels back, but he'd thought...

He'd thought Dean was trusting him again. That maybe he'd listen to why Sam had kept the dreams from him, maybe even forgive him for putting them all in danger.

Again.

"Everything alright, Sam?" Bobby asks climbing up the steps and Sam has to marvel at that for a moment, that Bobby is healed.

Sam rolls his shoulders. "Dean is... you might want to give him a wide berth for a bit."

"What are you two fighting about now?" Bobby sighs, he sounds fond and exasperated all at the same time.

"Me being an idiot again," Sam tells him, not really wanting Bobby to be pissed at him too. Time enough for that later.

Bobby sighs again and sits down on the porch next to Sam. "Boy, I've known you and your brother since Dean still thought Santa was real and didn't think he'd eat him."

Sam tries not to snicker at that.

"Neither you or Dean are idjits, despite you both acting it some days," he shakes his head. "And if you two don't stop twisting yourself up in knots over what's done and buried, it's going to get you both killed."

Bobby slaps his knee and gets to his feet, then heads inside.

Sam doesn't have much time to think about Bobby's words, before Gabriel is standing over him.

"What happened?" Gabriel demands, voice low and dangerous.

He knows for a fact that the archangel is on his last nerve of the day and he'd hate to make it worse. But he'd also hate for Gabriel to get impatient and just read what happened out of someone's head.

"Dean wanted to know how Lucifer knew we were here."

Gabriel cringes. "And I bet your brother responded with all the grace and poise of a gorilla?"

"Yeah," Sam breathes.

Gabriel sighs noisily and stares up at the sky. "Fuck this place."

The action is so bare and so human that Sam grins, then laughs, getting a smile in return from the archangel. There's something there in Gabriel's eyes, something soft and just the smallest bit devious. Sam knew if he asked that Gabriel would take him anywhere, all he'd have to do was say the word. It's tempting, it's more than tempting, but... But they can't afford that right now. Gabriel is needed here and Sam well... Sam can at least try to help.

"Samuel?" Castiel has gravitated towards the porch and is doing the concerned head tilt.

"Your mate is an idiot," Gabriel snaps and Castiel just nods like this isn't new information. "You didn't tell him about Sam's dreams, did you?"

Castiel has the good grace to look ashamed before he glances down. "I was distracted."

"Yeah, I heard how distracted..." Gabriel mutters, his eyes keep straying to Sam's hand, where it's still wrapped around the hilt of the blade he gave him. Sam's about to lift it, to offer it back when Gabriel rolls his shoulder and turns. "I need a walk."

He's off across the yard like he's being chased, stopping only to shoot a glare at Anna and Barach who quickly go silent when he walks by. Castiel shakes his head, a move he totally picked up from Bobby. Sam tries to not smile, even the frown was the same.

"I will speak to Dean," Castiel assures him, before he heads into the house.

Sam hangs his head as the front door shuts.

The peace lasts for all of ten seconds before Barachiel is flopping down on the porch next to him, grinning like a fool. "Hello, hello."

"Barachiel!" Anna hisses as she comes storming up to the porch and Sam tries not to start grinning at the pair of them. They're almost worse than him and Dean.

"What? I haven't even said anything yet?" Barachiel frowns, he's got his hat back and is wearing a pair of torn jeans and a t-shirt proclaiming "Han shot first".

"You're just going to be a pervert."

"Oi! Who says? Maybe I was gonna ask him how his day went, eh? Or how he slept?" Barachiel's eyebrows raise in the customary lewd gesture and Anna rolls her eyes.

Anna crosses her arms over her chest. "You don't have to answer anything this cretin asks you, Sam."

"Pffft," Barachiel rolls his eyes and then shoots Sam a suggestive look. "Don't listen to her. This is man time. I need you to be serious. Now, just where has Gabriel touched you?"

"I knew it!" Anna smacks Barachiel across the shoulder before Sam can even process the question. "I told you not to ask anything! This isn't any of our business!"

"Whoa, wait," Sam raises a hand before the siblings really start going at each other. "What are you talking about?" Though he has a pretty good idea exactly what Barach is talking about, and from the way Anna is blushing he kind of wants to know what they're thinking.

"Well, when an angel loves another angel..." Barachiel gets another smack before he can finish that sentence and switches tact. "Inquiring minds want to know if you and Gabe are, y'know... courting."

"Courting?" Sam asks, that was really not what he was expecting to get asked. Fucking, sure. Dating, maybe. But courting?

"Yes," Anna says. "Formally or..."

"Formally courting?"

Both of the angels nod as if Sam completely knows what's going on. He hasn't exactly thought about him and Gabriel. Okay, scratch that. He's thought about him and Gabriel. Kind of a lot. Kind of more than he probably should have been. But in a courting sense? A chocolate and roses sense? No, that was a little too chick flick even for him.

"He hasn't stated any intentions? Or maybe left you gifts? Like in common gathering areas?" Anna asks, ticking off some imaginary checklist in her head.

Sam shakes his head slowly. "No, he hasn't built me a nest either."

Anna's mouth falls open as Barachiel's eyes widen. Okay, maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to have said.

"Joking!" Sam backpedals as both angels let out a breath. "But really, what are you talking about? This whole courting thing?"

"Well," Barach starts. "I thought he fancied you 'cause he was always touching your arms and such. That's the first step y'know."

Was it?

Anna nods. "And you always stand directly behind him when confronting something."

Had he been doing that?

"So, we thought that well... something was going on. But Gabriel won't say anything one way or the other."

"Um, this sounds like a lot of rules that I'm not aware of. I mean, Dean and Cas don't do this."

Anna and Barachiel share a confused look before Barach straightens. "No, not exactly that of course, but they're already mated, the rules are a little more iffy for them. A mated pairs' all necks and wrists, and I know you can't see it but wings too. Heh."

"You should also see where they sit." Anna adds. "I mean, they sit even with each other which isn't actually traditional, but we're talking about Dean here so... Cas is usually to the right of him and that implies enough of their status when they're in public."

So it was all about sitting, and standing too, he guessed. But Gabriel hadn't said anything. Of course maybe it wasn't about saying anything. That would actually explain _a lot_ of Cas and Dean.

"Okay, so what does it mean when Gabriel sits on the floor by me?"

Anna's blush deepens and Barachiel's face splits into the biggest shit eating grin Sam has seen on anybody. "That right there, my good man, is an offer."

"An offer of what?"

Slowly Anna tilts her head from side to side. "Power mostly. He's willing to think of you as an equal..."

"Or a bit more," Barachiel interjects quickly, ignoring the glare from his sister.

"And since _he's_ the one sitting below you, it means you pretty much have the choice."

"What choice?" Sam asks. He knows he shouldn't be this interested. He's telling himself that it's just something new. New information and he likes learning. But that isn't it, not really.

"You can choose where he sits next," Barachiel grins. "Now he's sittin' to the left of you, which means you haven't quite given him the time 'o day yet. But you haven't told him to bugger off either. He also sits there as a warning, if any others come sniffing around he makes sure they know he's got first crack at you."

"Wow," Sam breathes. There should be a book on this. Really, it would probably be a bestseller.

"Now, if you want..." Anna starts, with the slightest smile. "You can have him sit on the right of you and that means you're interested in more, the next step if you will."

"It's that easy?"

"Yes, it's very subtle, I mean, it's an old system and not especially meant for humans. Really, we were a bit surprised to see Gabriel doing anything like that. We thought..."

"We thought he'd be more straightforward about it," Barach finishes. "But the way he's carrying on, you'd think he wasn't in a vessel."

"Being in a vessel changes thing?" Sam asks, trying to not think of glowing pairs of angels where every single _touch_ had meaning.

Barachiel laughs. "Course it does! You got parts when you're in a vessel! It isn't all wings and longing stares anymore. You humans have the right idea."

Well, that _also_ explained Cas and Dean.

Anna huffs. "It isn't all wings and longing stares the other way. You were just bad at it, Barach."

"Oi!" Barachiel sits up straight, glaring at Anna. "We aren't going to talk about that. You promised."

There's a split second when Anna looks like Gabriel, all devious and downright naughty. "I don't know. You did feel the need to tell everyone and then some about Crowley without giving me a chance to explain."

"You explained! You explained all day without actually saying anything! We are not going to talk about..."

"Remiel?" Anna grins as Barachiel yanks his hat over his eyes.

"You damned harpy! This is not relevant to the conversation!"

All of a sudden Barachiel hiding behind the door from the fallen archangel is starting to make a new sort of sense. In a romantic comedy sort of way.

"I think it's relevant. We can tell Sam what not to do. Like let _four decades_ pass by without a change in status."

"It wasn't four decades!"

"Forgive me, three point nine. Behold Sam, the angel that invented being a _tease_."

This is crazy, and Sam is grinning because angelic relationships were not something that he ever thought he'd be hearing about, much less be tangled up in. This conversation was crazy and still normal and... it was like... it was like having friends again. It was college again, when people only cared about who was sleeping with who and what day the midterm was. It was nice.

"I'm going inside! I do not need this!" Barachiel scrambles up as Anna laughs.

"Are you going to hide from your boyfriend again?"

"He is not my boyfriend!"

Anna sits down in the spot he left as the front door slams and Sam hears Bobby shout before a "Sorry!" follows. Sam sighs and shakes his head, grinning.

"Don't listen to Barach, he's an idiot and wouldn't know a good thing if it slapped him across the face. Which it did and he didn't," Anna laughs.

Sam fiddles with the blade across his lap, wondering how his hands seemed to fit into the curve of the hilt perfectly. "So is Gabriel a good thing?"

For a moment Anna looks surprised and then thoughtful before she smiles. "Truthfully? I'd say he's a bit of a handful. I doubt there would be many people who could keep up with him."

She would know her brother, wouldn't she? It sounded right, Gabriel was a force of nature and Sam was just... Sam was holding his blade. An archangel's blade, and a dozen little things are starting to add up. The small touches. The sitting. That look in Gabriel's eyes when Lucifer was in the dream. It was panic and fear... He couldn't get Sam out of there fast enough and Sam had tried convincing himself that it was because of Elle, that he was endangering everyone. But... if Sam was a danger to everyone, Gabriel never would have handed him the blade.

Sam swallows and looks at Anna. "So, what gifts are supposed to be appropriate, then? I mean, it doesn't seem like angels need anything."

"Oh," Anna sits up. "It really depends on your partner. That's very human. Usually trinkets, jewelry or flowers, things to adorn."

Right, he hadn't exactly gotten a Tiffany's box yet so...

"But it's a little different when courting humans. Then the traditional gift is food or wards. Things that offer protection, nourishment..."

Sam knows that Anna is still talking, elaborating, but he's stuck on the strawberries and the pancakes the day before. The bits of foil wrapped chocolate that Gabriel has been leaving on his books. Things that he hadn't even taken a second thought to consider. The gentle skating of runes being sketched around him and the calming sense of protection that they left behind.

"It's really just about spending time together, like anything else," Anna finishes as Sam blinks.

"What about this?" Sam asks, tilting the blade in the half light. "Barach looked like it was a big deal."

"It kind of is," Anna nods. "That's a big show of trust. Archangels just don't hand off their blades to anyone, much less humans. Most humans can't even perceive that thing, much less hold it."

Oh, wow. Okay. That was probably a little bit more than he was expecting, because he could see the blade pretty clearly, it was shorter than a regular sword, the length of his forearm and curved, the was blade impossibly thin and looked like it was made of mirror or glass and it gave way into the smooth curve of the hilt. He knew he was holding it. It was light, but solid and...

"Why can I see it? Because I'm supposed to be a vessel?"

Anna smiles and shakes her head. "You can see it because Gabriel trusts you and you can hold it because you trust him."

Huh, what?

"What?"

Anna leans over. "Try grabbing the blade."

"Did you really just tell me to grab the blade of a sword?"

"Try it!" She grins and if it we're Barachiel, Sam would have said "hell no" but Anna's okay.

"Fine, but you're putting any lost fingers back on."

"Cross my heart," Anna says.

Slowly Sam lets out a breath and wraps his hand around the center of the blade, and squeezes just a fraction of an inch. He feels the blade shift, just where he's touching it, going from a solid to... The metal slides through his fingers like water, like smoke before he's pulled his hand through it, unscathed.

"Okay, that was a... little weird." Nope, that was actually pretty damn weird. Like on a scale of one to ten that was a thirteen. He was pretty much betting that whatever that was, was not just a safety feature.

"Oh yeah," Anna nods. "He's got it bad for you."

Shit. Maybe. Wait. He didn't know if he even wanted this. He didn't even know if Gabriel was aware he was doing this. They hadn't even talked about anything well... important. Like... Like what would they talk about? I like you? Do you like me? Yes? No? Maybe? Circle one.

Sam closed his eyes and frowned. This is supposed to be wrong and complicated but... but maybe it didn't have to be. He just has to _know_ what he wants.

"What happens next?"

"Next?"

"After all the gifts and sitting and blades? Then what?"

Anna leans back, looking up at the sky. "After that, it's just pretty much what Dean and Castiel have. A trust and a bond."

The blade hums for a moment in Sam's grip and Anna raises an eyebrow.

"Let's say I theoretically wanted to encourage this." _That's it, theoretically._ "What exactly would I do?"

"There are a couple of things you could do..." Anna looks up to meet his eyes. "I'll walk you through them."

***

Perhaps Castiel stands at the foot of the stairs too long. Barachiel has already come back inside, and retreated into the kitchen without a word. It is not that he is... hesitant... to speak to Dean but he doesn't wish to fight with Dean either. Dean's temper always burns hot. Often with righteous fury behind it and it is part of what drew Castiel to Dean. Sometimes though it burns too hot and Dean lashes out, often at Sam and Castiel. Though Castiel will admit he has sometimes deserved his mate's fury.

He has still not told Dean who let Sam out of the panic room almost a year ago.

"You going to stand there all night?" Bobby asks, coming up from behind him.

Castiel wrinkles his forehead. He still does not often get human expressions. "No, I was not planning to, Robert."

Bobby sighs and mutters something under his breath. Castiel politely pretends he doesn't understand it.

"If they weren't fighting part of the time I'd be more worried," Bobby says as if that makes perfect sense. He hands Castiel a stuffed black bear. It looks old and slightly worn, but the fabric covering it is soft and the blue bead eyes still shine. "Take this in with you."

He looks at the bear then back at Bobby.

"Just give it to Dean. Now get on up there," Bobby orders him.

Cas does so, clutching the bear as he climbs the stairs then turns down the small hallway to the room he shares with Dean. The door is shut, but thankfully not locked. Dean doesn't raise his head when Cas opens the door, then shuts it behind him. He's stretched out on the bed with Elle curled up at his side. Dean has an arm flung over his eyes.

"I don't want to hear it, Sam," Dean growls, eyes still covered.

"I'm not Sam," Castiel says softly, walking towards the bed. He sheds his trench coat as he does so. He's found it... more comfortable to be without it of late. It's odd.

Dean moves his arm and lifts his head. "Cas," there's something bitter and sharp edged about Dean's tone. It cuts at Castiel, and makes his grace clench in his chest... or maybe that's his heart. "I really don't want to talk to you for awhile."

"Dean," Castiel breathes, searching for the right words. It would seem that Dean knew that he had known about Samuel's dreams before Dean had. He shifts his hands and finds that he's still holding the bear. "Robert told me to give this to you." He holds out the stuffed toy to Dean.

A smile appears on Dean's face as he sits up fully, careful not to jostle Elle. "Sir Bear Bear Fuzzybuttons! Where'd you find him?" Then Dean looks almost... embarrassed. "Can we pretend I didn't just go all Rainbow Brite there for a minute?"

Castiel blinks. "I'm not sure I understand the reference," he tells Dean, a bit perplexed by the shift in Dean's body language. "Robert asked me to give it to you."

Dean finally takes the bear from Castiel's hands. "I haven't seen this thing in years. He's held up pretty well considering this bear is old as me." Dean smiles again looking down at the stuffed toy. "Didn't know Bobby kept him after Sammy left him here."

"This was your childhood toy?" Castiel asks, sitting down on the bed next to Dean. He reaches behind his mate to run his hand over his sleeping fledgling's back. She's curled around her lion, her hair is a mess, and her face needs to be washed... but she's perfect.

Dean nods, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over the bears ear. "Yeah, dad got him for me when I was born," Dean says softly, sadly.

The sadness, regret, and heartache that pour off of Dean when he speaks of his father or his mother... Castiel wishes he could ease them. But he can't. He can't wish that John and Mary Winchester didn't meet the fates they did. He wouldn't have Dean then. Or Elle. Castiel is selfish, so very selfish. He knows so many sins (Pride, Lust, Greed, Despair, Wrath) first hand now and cannot regret a one. Castiel slides a hand up Dean's back to the bare skin on his neck, and rests his fingers there. "Did he come with that strange name?"

Dean laughs and leans back into Castiel touch. "No. I think he had a tag that called him Cedric or something at one point. I was, uhm, I guess three or so? I don't really remember it too clearly, but I think I was pretending to be a king and I needed a knight to help me on a quest." He frowns just slightly. "I don't know where the Fuzzybuttons comes from."

"He does not seem to have fuzzy buttons, this is true," Castiel agrees, with a smile. He leans closer and kisses Dean's throat, relishing the noise his mate makes and the soft sigh that follows it.

"I gave him to Sam when he turned two. Didn't have anything else to give him, and he was always playing with him anyways. And dad said I was too old for stuffed animals," Dean says as he leans into Castiel. His voice is sad again, and Castiel isn't sure he'll ever understand the everchanging-ness of human emotions. "Glad Bobby kept him. You think Elle would like him? Gotta keep the old bear in the family."

Castiel nods, wondering if Robert had known this would happen. "I think Elle would like him very much."

Dean manages a small smile. "We'll give it to her when she wakes up. Her nap was already interrupted once."

"We should speak about your fight with Sam," Castiel says finally.

His mate stiffens besides him, clenching a fist in the sheets they sit on. "No. How about we talk about why you knew about Sam's dreams before _I_ did and why you didn't think I needed to know?" Dean's words are sharp again, but not as sharp and bitter as when Castiel first entered the room.

"I only knew because Gabriel told me. As to how Gabriel knew, that is information best gleaned from Sam or Gabriel," Castiel says after a moment's pause. "You were happy, Dean, at peace. I did not want to disturb that. I had thought I'd have more time to tell you."

Dean snorts. "What, Sam couldn't tell me himself how he'd fucked us all over again?"

"Sam is my friend, Dean," Castiel says firmly. "And I will not hear you speak of him that way. It is unfair to him and you know this is true. And we are not... 'fucked'."

"Oh really?" Dean mutters as Elle wriggles in her sleep until she's mostly in Dean's lap, tossed haphazardly over his leg.

Castiel watches Dean smile and reach down to pull her onto his chest, sliding down the bed again, ignoring her sleepy grumbles and smoothing his hand over her head until she settles.

"I don't believe so."

Dean makes a grumbling noise, much like the ones Elle had been making. "Why's that?"

Castiel supposed that it was a testament to their relationship that Dean didn't immediately discount him when he brought up words such as "belief" now. Of course he still made faces, faces that faded when Castiel spoke next.

"Because I will not lose this."

Dean's fingers drag over his arm. "Cas..."

"No," Castiel says more sharply than he intends. "You have no idea what I would do to keep this. To keep you and our child safe, Dean. I will not lose either of you."

"Sam has..."

"Your brother has withstood many weeks of assault and violation by Lucifer. He gave no information willingly," Castiel says softly. He rests his hand on Elle's back. "And he is your brother, you raised him. He fears losing you. You know that."

Dean glances away but their fingers meet on Elle's back. "He's not going to lose me."

"I'm not the one that needs to hear that."

Dean closes his eyes and makes a sound that pains Castiel to hear. "Cas, me and Sam don't talk about stuff like that. He-"

"Gabriel left heaven because he thought I didn't need him anymore," Cas interrupts. It's a painful truth to admit but Castiel is so tired of Dean being angry at the barest handful of allies that he has garnered. He's tired of watching and waiting and worrying. He's tired of that uncertain look that passes between himself and Gabriel, as if they are never sure that they can be what they once were. The same look that Sam wears when Dean starts yelling, when he starts giving into fear.

Dean has gone quiet and still, he's thinking, frowning over the crown of Elle's messy curls.

"What is he to you?" Dean breathes. "He's not just a brother, he's something different."

"I suppose the short answer would be to say that it is complicated."

The face that Dean makes is familiar and warm despite how he rolls his eyes. "Then give me the long answer."

"Gabriel was my guardian. Our Father bade him to look after me until I could do so myself."

"You couldn't look after...? Wait, I thought angels just..." Dean's eyes flickered to Elle for a moment before they settled on Castiel again. "Got poofed into existence."

"Normally they are created fully grown," Castiel was quite sure that the rather unpleasant feeling rising in him was embarrassment as Dean started to grin in that way that promised a grand amount of teasing was to come.

"You weren't though. You were... little," Dean is grinning full force now. "Why did God make you little?"

"Our Father was simply copying the growth cycle of a human. I was an experiment."

"You mean you were the special snowflake?"

The look on Dean's face is anything but flattering and Castiel frowns as he feels his cheeks beginning to burn. It is an unpleasant sensation and for not the first time since he met his mate does he wish the man would just... "drop it".

"I was one of a kind, yes."

"And then God gave you to Gabriel?" Dean rolls his eyes. "That doesn't sound too smart."

"He could have given me to the Morningstar," Castiel frowns.

Dean flinches and Castiel feels momentarily guilty but at least Dean has stopped teasing for the moment.

"So, Gabriel is like..." Dean frowns as he tries to wrap around the situation.

Castiel is rather afraid that Dean will say 'father' because that wasn't what Gabriel was at all. "Gabriel is my older brother. He took care of me."

The words seem to stick in the small room, fading but not disappearing completely as Dean sighs and closes his eyes. "Yeah, I get that," Dean says softly. "And he left heaven because you didn't need him?"

"It wasn't true. Just because I had grown did not mean..." Castiel very much does not like this feeling. The hollow echo of doubt and loss. The dark sinking truth of when he realized that Gabriel was simply never coming home.

"What did you think? When he left, what did you think happened?" Dean whispers and opens his eyes to look up at him.

Castiel sets his lips in a thin line because he knows what he always said. He though Gabriel was dead. He'd thought him killed or captured or... But that wasn't true. Castiel had known that Gabriel lived, he would have felt it if he had perished, what he had really thought, what had scared him the most. "I thought I had made some sort of mistake. I had displeased him somehow. I thought that he left because I wasn't what he wanted me to be. I thought that if I did better, if I obeyed, if I trained harder then he might return."

"Shit, Cas," Dean murmurs, his fingers coming up to trace over Castiel's cheek, warm and comforting.

"That was not true either. But we did not speak of such things. So, I did not know."

Dean's hand slides around to cup the back of Castiel's neck and tug with the barest pressure. Castiel sighs before he leans forward closing his eyes, and pressing his forehead to his mate's. They stay like that for a while, just existing together, sharing the same breath. Until Dean let's out a shaky breath. "I'll talk to Sam."

Relief rises in Castiel and it must show because Dean smiles and kisses him. Small rewards are all that Castiel can ask for now. Sweet things and stolen moments have become the only things he looks forward to. The kiss drags on, neither willing to break it for very long, until a sleepy voice chirps from the vicinity of Dean's chest.

"Kiss?"

Castiel looks down at his beautiful fledgling who is yawning and blinking her wide blue eyes, reaching one hand out for him, well, probably more for his tie. Dean chuckles as she squirms until Castiel picks her up, kissing the top of her head and cradling her in the crook of his arm. She's still half asleep, babbling something about kisses and light. Then she sees the teddy bear, tucked in between Castiel and Dean and makes a curious noise. Dean passes it over along with her lion that had slid under him.

Castiel holds the bear up to Elle, watching as she carefully tugs on ears and runs tiny fingers over it's plastic eyes. He introduces it in his language, although he has to say it's given name in English because "Fuzzybuttons" didn't exactly lend itself to the angelic tongue. Dean is laughing now although Castiel isn't sure why, but laughter is welcome as long as it means Dean is happy. Elle seems pleased with the toy and hugs it to herself, taking it out of his hands.

She pulls out of his grasp and makes herself comfortable in the tight space between him and Dean, talking brightly to her lion and now, her bear. After a moment Castiel frowns and Dean tugs on his shirt.

"Why are you frowning? Don't frown. Frowny time is over."

"I am afraid I neglected to differentiate between formal and informal titles when teaching Elle introductions. She is addressing her lion most incorrectly."

Dean blinks and looks from Castiel to Elle who is introducing her lion to her bear and... Dean is laughing again. Castiel frowns at his mate. It is not a laughing matter, and really he only has himself to blame.

"It is important that she address her lion formally as he is an ally or friend and disrespect should not be implied..." He's cut off when Dean tugs him down for another kiss making Elle laugh and squeal.

"Cas," Dean says as he leans up to leave a kiss on the bridge of Castiel's nose. "That lion's been in her mouth, that's about as informal as it gets."

Castiel huffs but his mate and fledgling ignore it in favor of pulling him down onto the bed.

***

Gabriel is sitting on the hood of one of the many junked cars scattered across the salvage yard, starting up at the clear night sky. If he was human he might be cold, but he's not, even though he's wrapped in flesh. The stars are calming.

This is why he left. He can't be the commanding Archangel everyone expects and needs him to be. He doesn't want this responsibility. He doesn't want this... connection.

Sam... seeing Sam's hand wrapped around his blade with all the certain knowledge that it wouldn't fade away. Gabriel hadn't know just exactly how out of his control this all had gotten until that moment. He needs to leave, part of him desperately wants to leave but... He can't leave Castiel like he is. He can't abandon his fledgling or Elle. He can't... he can't leave Sam. Unguarded, unwarded. He can't stand, can't tolerate the thought of Lucifer in Sam's head, in his dreams. Sam is strong and stubborn and willful, and will almost never do as he's told. But Sam is human, and Gabriel knows his brother.

And Gabriel can't tolerate...

"Hey, mind company?" Sam's voice breaks through the quiet and Gabriel's thoughts.

He doesn't know how Sam got so close without him noticing. Sam's smiling and holding two bottles in one hand and a bowl in the other.

Gabriel really means to say yes, he minds, even as he blinks at the objects Sam carries. "No, have a seat, Sammy."

Sam grins, and sits down on Gabriel's right. "Beer?" he asks, holding out one of the bottles he's holding. "You missed dinner so I brought you some out. Nothing fancy, just chili, no beans."

"Good, I hate beans," he grumbles, accepting the beer and bowl from Sam. He really shouldn't, but he does. "I don't need food, you know."

Sam shrugs, taking a swig of his own beer and leans back against the windshield. "But you like food."

Gabriel laughs at that. "I enjoy the tastes of things." In honesty though he doesn't get hungry, but he misses food if he doesn't eat for days at a time.

"So do I," Sam says, and there's something almost teasing about his tone.

Gabriel shakes it off mentally and starts in on the chili. Spicy things and sweet things have always been his favorite and the chili is just the right level of hot. He's aware of Sam glancing at him every now and then but mostly the boy stays quiet and gazes at the stars. Gabriel tries not to watch Sam's fingers on the neck of the beer bottle the way they skim and circle. He tries not to notice how Sam's leg brushes against his or how the steady rhythm of Sam's heart calls to him.

Chili done, Gabriel snaps his fingers sending the bowl into the kitchen sink secretly hoping to scare the shit out of someone. He's thinking of turning Barach's hat pink, just for the hell of it.

"Handy," Sam comments, though his gaze is still on the stars. "They seem brighter tonight."

Gabriel hums pleased Sam noticed. "Some of them are. I suspect they're very interested in what's going on here."

Sam raises his head. "How can balls of burning gas be interested in anything?"

"Oh some of them are, but others are... it's hard to explain in English. There aren't words for them. Some are... cousins, I guess you could say. Others are pagan gods that grew tired of the world and just want to watch now," Gabriel tells him with a half smile.

"I can't even tell if you're serious or not," Sam grumbles, then takes a swig of beer.

"Calling me a liar are you, Samuel Winchester?" Gabriel asks in a tone of mock offense.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You were pretending to be a janitor when I first met you. You played at being a pagan god. Yes, I'm calling you a liar."

"Oh, I wasn't playing at being a pagan god. It's not a coat you can put on and take off." Gabriel takes a long drink of beer. "I... had let myself forget a great many things. You kept reminding me, but I just couldn't leave you alone."

"I'm fun to fuck with I've been told," Sam says tone dry and self deprecating. But he's smiling just a bit, his eyes almost... "Fun to fuck too."

A shiver runs up Gabriel's spine, and for a moment he can picture nothing else but Sam spread out under him, naked, and willing. He drains his beer quicker than any human could before he breaks out into a grin, it was about time Sam learned to give as good as he got. "I bet you are."

Sam cocks his head to the side then looks back up at the sky. "Tell me about one of those pagan gods up there?"

"You really want to know?" Gabriel asks. "Not all the stories are pleasant."

"Interesting stories rarely are." Sam leans back again, waiting.

Gabriel sighs, snaps his fingers for another beer, and leans back with Sam. "You would know her as Anansi and, well, I don't think human tongues can pronounce her real name. Seems appropriate to start with her since she brought stories to the world before Dad had thought you lot up. "

"I thought Anansi was male?" Sam interrupts.

"Who's telling this story?" Gabriel snorts. "You humans get so much wrong. Anansi certainly thought of herself as female, especially in spider form. Now are you going to let me tell the story?"

Sam holds a hand up. "Yeah, yeah. I promise no more interruptions."

"I doubt that. Now Anansi...."

As he tells the story, something occurs to him. It's something that shouldn't because Sam is human. Sam is human for all the demon blood in his veins, for all the blood of angels that flow through his bloodline, for all that he's meant to be the vessel for Gabriel's bright and terrible brother. But the thought comes and it curls around him. It sinks down in his mind until it becomes words.

_Sam is sitting to his right._

It means nothing, it can't mean anything, but his words falter for a moment and Sam looks concerned where he leans next to Gabriel. It takes less than a moment for Gabriel to recover, continuing his story of how Anansi asked the raven to take her thread and fly it high into above the earth so she could climb up into the sky. Sam is warm against Gabriel's side and he wants to draw the story out as long as possible.

Tricksters after all are good at nothing else if not fooling people, especially themselves. And if Gabriel wants to fool himself for the space of time it take to weave his tale then it's no ones business but his own.

"And now she sits there, weaving the most delicate of webs that shine brightly in the night sky so everyone down on Earth has to look up and marvel at her creation," Gabriel finishes, turning his head slightly to look at Sam.

The boy is half lidded, but still awake, watching Gabriel with a smile. "So is it true?" Sam asks.

Gabriel smiles, then laughs. "Might be." He tilts his head, watching the way the moonlight paints Sam. "What do you think?"

"I think there might be some truth in there somewhere," Sam says, shaking his head. He yawns and stretches, all long lines and muscles under his clothes. Gabriel's fingers twitch. "I should go in, maybe call it a early night. Do you need to lay in new wards?"

Reaching up, Gabriel brushes his fingers over Sam's forehead sketching out symbols and runes. He's just reinforcing the wards and protections he'd placed the night before, but it seems to soothe Sam. Even with the wards, Gabriel will watch his dreams. Lucifer isn't going to violate Sam's dreams for even one more night.

Sam smiles again. "Thanks. Think I can get another story out of you tomorrow night?" Sam asks, sitting up fully now.

"Maybe," Gabriel concedes. He already knows he will though. There are so many stories to tell, so many things he's seen and for so long he's had no one to tell. He used to tell Castiel when he still fit in Gabriel's arms, but that was such a long time ago.

"Good, I'd like that," Sam tells him as if Gabriel had agreed. He slides off the car, his fingers brushing against the back of Gabriel's hand. "Night, Gabriel."

"Goodnight, Sam," Gabriel manages, though his voice feels tight in his vessel throat. He watches Sam walk back towards the house.

Sam didn't know what he was doing, he couldn't. Gabriel shifts into a sitting position and as he does so notices a weight in his jacket pocket. Reaching inside he finds a bar of chocolate wrapped in a piece of white notebook paper, its edges torn. Sam must have slipped it into his pocket at some point during the story. How hadn't he noticed? He'd been too caught up in his own words and the lulling comfort of Sam's strong heart beat, that's how...

Slowly, he unwraps the chocolate from the paper. When he turns the paper over he see's words written in black ink.

_"Do you like me? Circle yes or no."_ Gabriel chuckles before his mind full catches up, because what are they, school children?

Then everything adds up in a rush and he jerks his head back towards the house. Sam knows. Sam _knows_. He suspects through Barachiel or Anna. Which means...

Gabriel inhales sharply, taking in air he doesn't need too quickly. Sam sat on his right, brought him food and drink, listened to him talk, touched the back of his hand, left him chocolate...

_Courting._

If Sam meant it, not just playing some joke to get back for all the "jokes" Gabriel has visited on the Winchesters, then Sam is interested. Gabriel doesn't know what to do with that. He wants... craves Sam in a way he doesn't want to look at too closely, and this courting started long, long ago. Started in the pagan fashion with blood and death and games. The boy was interesting, clever, full of sharp edges, and dark places. He'd been unattainable and Gabriel had turned his eyes away before Sam could slide further down with a mouth full of blood into the arms of a demon. Gabriel hadn't expected the want to be as strong when he saw Sam again, hadn't expected Sam to even think of asking for his help. He never expected to be able to have Sam.

Now it seems he can.

Gabriel lips curl into a smile. They've been courting for years now, whether Sam knew it or not, so Gabriel can take this slowly. He can let Sam set the pace and call the shots.

He snaps his fingers and with the pen that appears he circles _yes_. Gabriel takes a bite out of the chocolate and stuffs the note in his pocket, before heading back towards the house.

***

The clock that was on his desk is on the floor. It's broken, its said 4:09 since he first laid eyes on it. He isn't sure what time it is now, the blackout curtains have been drawn, he can't tell if the sun is up or down. They didn't string him up facing the window. There are sigils drawn into the floor, a devils trap which binds him. The pain is almost a numb ache now, it only flares up in certain points.

Wrists.

Left side.

Lower back.

His soul.

They carved Anna's mark off him. That was what had hurt the most. Everything else had just been extraneous after that. Even though that makes no sense, he's suffered hell. He clawed his way _out_ of hell. But the absence of the mark feels more painful than the burning fire of holiness, the deliberately partial exorcisms that have left his very soul in agony. Demons know quite a lot about agony.

He can hear footsteps. Four demons, one angel. Demons that he thought were firmly in his pocket. He should already know everything there is to know about turncoats and betrayal. Well, you learn something new everyday.

A long bored sigh echoes in the air above his head before a firm hand cups his chin and tilts his head up. Icy blue eyes and pale hair, the angel... His eyes flutter as blood and sweat seep into them.

"You know, Crowley. I'm actually beginning to think that you _don't_ know anything. Which is such a pity for you, really," the angel is turning his head this way and that, detached and curious.

He's a giant bastard and when he twists a little too far Crowley spits blood on his immaculate suit. It isn't the first time he's done it. But the red fades slowly as if were never there to begin with and the angel just sighs again, bored. He's got a blade in his other hand that he's flipping end over end, catching it repeatedly. The light from the lamp that's fallen on the floor glints off it in a spiral of white. It's making Crowley sick to stare at. They've been asking him about Anna-Anael for hours now and about a baby and those damned Winchesters and a dozen other things that he thankfully didn't know about. He and Anna don't talk about things like that. Family things, work things. It's safer that way, just in case shit like this happens.

A door opens and footsteps cross over broken glass. He hears the demons shifting, restless and his head flops down when the angel lets him go.

"Well? Did you find their little haven?" Jhudiel asks, making it sound like he's asking about a whorehouse he wishes to burn down.

"Yes, Jhudiel, but Anael was not present and there wasn't any evidence of use to us."

Crowley's been a demon too long to let the relief that they hadn't found Anna show. She's clever, his Anna, she'll stay safe and out of her brothers' hands. He would rather her align with Lucifer than have her on the rack. Nothing has broken him since hell, because it teaches pain, it makes you want and hate it, but Crowley knows he would break the moment Jhudiel's blade touched her. Because the blade is only the start of it, because Jhudiel likes hurting the flesh before he starts on the soul. Alistair, would have admired the angel's work.

Silence passes for far too long before the angel lets out a long noise of displeasure. "It looks like we've reached a dead end."

"Zachariah will not be pleased," the other angel sounds almost worried. Crowley doesn't care.

"He'll understand."

The footsteps that follow echo in the room, a sharp final sort of noise. Jhudiel cups his head again. "It would seem Mr. Crowley that you have reached the end of your serviceability. Don't worry, we'll be sure to send you on your way."

The knife flips again in the air before it's caught and dragged in a fine burning line down the side of his face, dipping down to his throat. He's done, he has nothing more to offer and the angel knows this. The angel was waiting for this. He holds the image of Anna in his head as clear as he can imagine, her bright eyes and that ripple of red hair, like spilled blood on the pillow case. He imagines her frowning, smiling, laughing, the faces she makes in the throes of ecstasy. He hears her calling his name, just talking about houses and music and normal things. How she'd pull his papers or book or cell phone out of his hands and demand his attention. Her fingers brushing over his collarbone, tracing the mark she burned onto him. The last thing she said to him was "Be careful".

He pictures the circles and lines that make up her angelic name.

"What is it doing?"

A moment before a chuckle, the angel is laughing, something low and amused as the knife drags down. It's only a matter of time before the burning white hot holy fire of a final exorcism builds again.

The voices around him blur together as his lips move.

"I think it's _praying_."


	8. Chapter Seven: Good Times Bad Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The apocalypse pushes on, whether the players are ready or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original A/N's posted March 25 2010:  
> "betas: sweetsyren  
> Spoilers: Up to 5x10  
> A/N: Sorry this took so long! Vacations were had and some squidgy character development had to be chased down and dealt with. (I.E. Shot.) Also, o hay guys, we won an award! Sweet!"  
> 

Chapter Seven: Good Times Bad Times

_“We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think its forever.”_ \- Carl Sagan

The night is deep across the salvage yard, and Anna would be grateful for the quiet and darkness if only she could think of anything but _Crowley, Crowley, Crowley,_ suddenly ringing in her head. She'd been talking to Barach in the kitchen and then she'd been running. She doesn't dare teleport or fly directly from the yard, but, oh, she wants to. Instead she's moving across the yard as if hell hounds are on her heels. Her mind is a jumble but she's planning. She was a garrison leader, she can plan on the fly. Gabriel and Michael taught her well.

She doesn't know what's waiting for her, it's hard to pick through the sudden jumble of pain that's _her Crowley_ and find exactly what's happening, but she counts on at least one angel and several demons. Which of her brothers could it be? Not Remiel, he stills watches the yard and house like a stalker. Someone powerful enough to break through Crowley's wards... or maybe they caught him on the street? Had he been looking for her? God... Father why didn't she send him word that she was _safe_?

Anna slips through the gate and the wards, strengthening each ward behind her as she passes through. She unfurls her wings. No more time to think, she needs to go now. She needs to not think that he could already be dead...

"Sister."

She jerks her head towards Remiel's voice as he steps out of the dusk. "I have to go."

"Do you?" he asks and Anna wants to scream. "Where are you running off to? Zachariah?"

Anna spares him the briefest of glares. "Crowley." It's all she gives him before she launches herself skyward.

In the space of half a breath Anna touches down inside Crowley's office. In a space even shorter than that, she takes in the scene. Crowley, her dear blasphemous, devious, Crowley, is strung up in the middle of the room, a devil's trap beneath him. Jhudiel is in front of him, knife in hand, his other hand on Crowley's forehead.

"Get away from him, Jhudiel!" Her voice shakes despite best efforts. Jhudiel, why did it have to be Jhudiel? And her mark... her mark is...

Jhudiel turns his head just slightly. "Anael, how nice of you to join us. I do hope you'll forgive me, but I'm in the middle of something." She can see his mouth curl upwards slightly. "Do make yourself at home, won't you? If I'd know you were coming I would have made tea. So, just one moment... Unless... You'd like to?" He waves the knife around in his hand like a baton, ignoring the flecks of crimson that spattered onto the floor. "He's in quite a bit of misery you see, the charitable thing to do would be to put him out of it..."

She's at him in a moment, sliding into the space where he used to be. He's fast, frighteningly so, he was always so _fast_...

He's standing off to the side now, demons sliding out of the shadows behind him. "Now come on, Butterfly. You'll have to do better than that."

Anna flinches. The pet name digs at her, carves whorls into long forgotten wounds. It was the name Jhudiel always used when poking and prodding at his captive sister. When he was trying to teach her, trying to _tame_ her.

She lets the demons come at her, one eye on Jhudiel in case he decides to go for Crowley again. But he doesn't, he watches her toss demons aside like rag dolls, breaking limbs and sending blades skittering across the floor. He's judging her, seeing how much of her power has returned. It isn't going to be enough, not with the smile that spreads on his face like oil, like he knows and has known all her weaknesses from the start. Perhaps she could... She just had to get Crowley out of here. She just had to get him somewhere safe and...

She barely reacts fast enough to throw Jhudiel away from her, barely ducks, barely turns as his blade flashes by her head, just catching the edge of her hair. She twists and then tumbles, landing at Crowley's knees. It's a scramble to get up again as the knife sinks into the marble next to her side. She rolls, dips and then, something is on her. Another angel! She didn't even... Jhudiel smiles as he stands and he's too close to Crowley, too close, she screams and jerks up against whomever is crushing her into the floor.

"Keep a hold of her, Nuriel. We'll need her for later."

The next moment is a blur.

Anna screams at the same time Nuriel does and she's free as she watches Jhudiel spinning to face...

Remiel is staring curiously at the prone and smoking form of Nuriel, the ashy remains of wings spreading out around the body.

"My apologies, were you speaking to him?" Remiel asks, calmly dusting his hands off before he pulls Anna to her feet.

Jhudiel is frozen as Remiel steps past Anna and stops in the space between Jhudiel and Crowley. It's a protective stance and Anna feels her heart jump in her chest as memories of home and safe and _brother_ wash over her.

"Also, 'Butterfly'?" Remiel asks as a rapier hums into existence in his hand. "I don't think I like that."

"No one cares what you like, traitor," Jhudiel hisses. "We should have torn your grace from you when we had the chance."

Remiel just smiles. "You can ask Raphael how well that went when he tried."

The pair blur in the center of the room and Anna hurries forward to get to Crowley, dodging breezes and sounds more than anything else. The demon knife tingles against her fingers but it breaks the devil's trap well enough and she cuts the ropes holding Crowley, catching him and cradling him against her chest. She spares one glance up as the windows shatter around her. Jhudiel is screaming as Remiel pins him to the wall.

Anna tucks her face against her demon and wills them away.

***

Gabriel has his eyes half shut listening to the sounds of the house. He's half focused on Sam's dreams, and his fingers twitch against his thigh with the urge to be at Sam's bed side and stroking his hair. Sam's mind is strong but Gabriel can only do so much for the nightmares without touching him. He can keep Lucifer out, but he can't completely keep Sam's own mind from tormenting him.

_Barachiel! Gabriel!_ Anna's mental cry is pained, panicked.

He's up in an instant, out the front door as Barachiel leaps off the roof. He'd been complaining that Anna had taken off and it was sudden and she didn't tell him anything and it had started to border on whining so Gabriel had sent him out to check the perimeter. As long as she hadn't shifted the wards when she left he wasn't exactly concerned. Anna was a big girl, she could take care of herself. But as he and Barach ran towards the sound of sobbing he wasn't so certain.

Anna is on the ground just outside the gate, clutching something... someone to her chest. It takes Gabriel a moment to realize it's a demon, and then he knows what it is Anna holds.

Crowley.

There's blood all over both of them, and Gabriel can't tell whose it is, can't even tell if it's his sister that's wounded. Anna's reactions aren't helping either, and Gabriel will yell at her for being an idiot and running off her on her own much, much later. And there had better be a later or someone would damn well pay.

"Shit," Barachiel breathes, moving closer to the gate and the wards.

Anna looks up, eyes wild. She's barely keeping herself constrained to her human form.

Gabriel grabs Barachiel's arm. "We have to make sure."

"I can't," Anna sobs bending her head back over Crowley. Gabriel watches as she tries, stretching out her grace around the demon.

The sound Crowley makes, though unconscious, is inhuman and full of pain as Anna's grace rips into the demon's already tattered soul. Anna screams and Gabriel can't stop Barach as he slides through the wards, carefully this time and kneels by her.

"Anael, look at me, you can't heal him. Just calm down."

Anna is sobbing something, half in English and half in their tongue, something about a mark and _gone_ and... All of a sudden the pieces fall into place. She marked him, she should have been able to heal him, she'd gone and... He'd though it was a fling, something to pass the time or prove she was more cunning, smarter. Something stupid, something silly. Now... Anna couldn't help her _mate_.

_Oh Father._

"Gabriel?" Castiel's voice carries and Gabriel looks up at Castiel standing in the doorway, Dean right behind him.

"Stay in the house!" He snaps, feeling only a little guilty when Castiel flinches but this... this is bad.

Because if they can't fix the demon then he's not sure they can fix Anael.

Gabriel knows almost a dozen ways to kill a demon but to heal one? His mind is coming up blank. He can hear Castiel and Dean talking behind him on the porch, quick, hushed words that he can barely make out under Anna's keening sobs and now... Shit, now Barach is whimpering because his sister won't look at him, won't let go of the demon, won't pull back. There's a shift in the air and the sound of chiming glass and then Remiel is there. Gabriel thinks it's been millenniums since he's been glad to see that shifty bastard.

Remiel is kneeling and moving Anna's hands, pressing her back into Barachiel who holds her as she sobs, and then he's pressing his hands to Crowley's chest and of course... Of course a fallen would be able to help. The seconds drag on before the demons eyes flutter and Anna gasps into silence before Remiel nods and Barach lets her go. Remiel stands as Anna whispers promises of safety to her demon... her mate.

After a moment Gabriel notices that Remiel looks a bit of a mess. His palms are bloody, his hair's mussed, and there's a long torn line down the side of his ridiculously expensive coat.

"Are you going to tell me what happened or are you going to be a dick about it?" Gabriel asks, cocking his head to the side.

Remiel turns his head and looks like he's thinking about it for a moment, but Barach is staring at him and petting Anna's hair as she rocks Crowley back and forth. The two exchange looks and just when Gabriel thinks he's not going to get a answer, Remiel looks back to him.

"It was Jhudiel. He's on Earth, apparently doing Zachariah's dirty work," Remiel sighs, unhappily.

Fuck, fucking fuck. That was not what he needed to hear. Remiel is powerful and can be practically unreadable at times but... Jhudiel is just a cold bastard who should have fallen years ago. Gabriel can't imagine that Jhudiel has improved since he's been gone and Michael's been locked up in his tower trying to forget the world.

"I don't think Crowley is the first he's gone after," Remiel says, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. He methodically starts wiping blood from his hands. Gabriel would be amused under different circumstances. "From what I pulled out of Nuriel's head they've been going at it for the last week or so. Demons, humans, angels, pagans, anything the Winchesters might have come in contact with over the last few years or that they thought would know anything."

"Great. Nuriel?" Gabriel demands. He knows the answer to this, but he wants to hear Remiel say it.

"Dead." Remiel doesn't sound like he regrets it but Nuriel wouldn't have been the first brother he'd killed. Or likely the last.

Gabriel hears Dean's voice rise sharply behind him but he ignores it. "Jhudiel?"

A silent moment passes, a flash of anger in gray eyes. "Ran. I lost him in Bangladesh, but he was hurting." He looks towards Barachiel. "I was... worried for Anael."

"We should get them inside," Barachiel's voice is soft, as if his sister is a frightened rabbit, not a powerful angel.

Remiel scans the dark horizon and nods. "It might be best," he agrees.

Gabriel frowns. He's sure the humans will love that, and he's not thrilled himself at the thought of a demon under the same roof as Elle, Castiel, and Sam. "And put them where? Do any of us trust a demon... even Anna's demon so close to the fledgling?" Gabriel demands, giving Remiel and Barach hard pointed looks.

Fuck, he doesn't want to make choices like this. He doesn't want to risk Anna going somewhere else with the demon though, not in either of their present states. And damn it he can't even blame her for doing what she did, going after him. As stupid as it was for her to _mate_ with a demon, and he is going to get to the bottom of that later, he admires her bravery for going. She couldn't have counted on Jhudiel. These are the decisions he doesn't want, because he doesn't want to choose between hurting sister and the _greater good_.

"He won't hurt her," Anna says with a raspy whisper. She doesn't look up. "Gabriel, please."

Barachiel closes his eyes, and Gabriel wishes he could too. "Anna..."

"You could put them in the panic room," Dean says from behind him.

Gabriel doesn't sigh, but he wants to. Of course Dean wouldn't do what he was damn well told, but its a good idea. One he wishes he'd thought of. "Right, the panic room. Think it's safe enough?"

Dean walks closer into Gabriel's field of view, Castiel just behind him. "Yeah. Held Sam just fine." There something almost too casual about the way he says that, and Gabriel stores that away for another time. Dean gives Remiel the barest of glances, focusing instead on Anna.

Castiel nods in agreement. "Unless someone lets them out, they cannot leave the room. It should be a safe enough place for Crowley to finish healing and for Anna to recover."

"Sounds good to you, Anna?" Dean asks, his voice softening just slightly as he speaks to her. Whatever affection Dean held for Anna Milton still lingers, it's clear.

Anna nods, her face is still wet, but she's trying to pull herself back together. Bit by bit. Gabriel knows he shouldn't be surprised, this is his sister who fell without fear, who took back her grace, escaped Heaven's forces and refused to simply hide. She was and is far braver than he.

Just like that the decision isn't Gabriel's anymore, and it's rather pathetic how grateful he is. "Alright then. Barach, stand guard out here while I get Crowley and Anna through the wards. Cas, give her a hand with him." Gabriel rolls his shoulders and looks at Dean. "Dean? You get the honor of explaining this to Bobby."

"Son of bitch."

***

The kitchen is quiet, almost too quiet in comparison to the rest of the house, but that's where Dean finds Gabriel. Dean had tried the basement first after leaving Bobby and his loud demands for answers Dean couldn't really give. The panic room had been shut up tight and Dean had almost expected to hear Sam screaming for him inside. So, really, Dean's glad to find Gabriel away from everyone else. Even if the calm and quiet taste false. The archangel is leaning against the counter, drinking down a beer without a pause. Dean rolls his eyes then thinks _shit the guy's got the right idea_ and fishes a beer out of the fridge. And he's got to talk to Sammy about putting green stuff in the vegetable bin. Everyone knows that bin's really for beer.

Dean pops the lid off the bottle on the edge of the counter, and flings the beer cap behind the fridge.

"Interesting storage space," Gabriel says.

Dean glances at him and somehow isn't surprised to see a new bottle in his hand. "Something my dad and Bobby started," Dean tells him with a shrug, though he's not sure why Gabriel would give a crap. But the guy -- angel -- whatever is important to Castiel so Dean's trying, you know?

"How do you just start throwing beer caps behind a fridge?" Gabriel asks with a snort.

Dean takes a long swallow of beer then grins. "I think they were drunk." He remembers coming down the stairs and hearing his dad laughing. That's what makes the memory stand out, Dean thinks, his dad laughing. "It just sorta stuck. Me and Sam used to do it with coke bottle caps when we were kids."

Gabriel chuckles. "Me, Barach, and Metatron did something like that back in the day. A lot of its still there, big tourist attraction in Ireland. Of course it was Anael's idea to stack 'em like that."

It's hard to imagine angels clowning around but he's seen the way Barachiel and Anna carry on. He'd seen the remnants of an easy friendship between Uriel and Cas. And Dean sort of gets it now that he ruined that for Cas.

Dean scrapes at the label on the bottle with his thumbnail. "Is she going to be okay?"

There's silence while Gabriel drains half his beer. "I don't know," he finally says. It's honest and raw, and it shakes Dean just a little bit. "Something like that has never... was never supposed to be."

Dean thinks maybe he should leave this alone, but he wants answers. Needs them. There's a bigger picture here and he's got a feeling he needs to see it. If just for Cas and Elle's sake. "Y'know it would have been easier to explain to Bobby what the fuck happened out there and why there's a demon in his basement, if I understood myself."

Gabriel sits the bottle aside and pins Dean with a sharp look. "You really want to know?"

"I think I have the right to," Dean points out. He's not even angry... he just wants to know. "And Anna's my friend."

"According to Sammy you two were more than just friends," Gabriel says sharply.

Dean bangs the back of his head against the cabinets. "She's my friend and she saved Cas' life," he says, swallowing explanations and protests. Gabriel doesn't deserve those, only Cas does. "She was acting like she was going to go mad out there. Like Crowley being hurt was killing her. I want to know why."

Gabriel makes a long noise that's half a sigh and half growl. "Fine." He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling for a long moment, leaving Dean waiting. "Crowley wasn't just hurt. He was dying. You couldn't see that with your puny human eyes, but the demon's soul was in shreds. I'd say Jhudiel half exorcised him from his body a few dozen times, then dragged him back while keeping up the damage to the flesh."

"Keep the body broken, while you wear down the soul. Flesh can be healed but it remembers," Dean whispers, the words coming from a place he doesn't like looking in his head.

The kitchen falls impossibly still. Gabriel just watches him, eyes distant and unreadable as his expression.

Dean's tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he takes a swig of beer, then another. "What does that have to do with Anna? I heard Barachiel tell her she couldn't heal him. Why is that?"

Gabriel exhales sharply, and turns his head away from Dean, another beer appearing in his hand. "They cut her mark off him, burned it from him. She should have been able to heal him but with the mark gone... angels only know how to kill and destroy demons, not heal them." He stops as if debating something with himself. Dean's hand strays up to his own shoulder where Cas' mark sits, and he swallows hard. "We were lucky Remiel returned. As a fallen... there are things he can do that even Michael can't."

"That doesn't explain Anna..." Dean pushes. His fingers still rest against his mark.

Gabriel closes his eyes, growls, and all the glass in the kitchen rattles. "It's complicated, and you don't even understand half of what it means for Castiel to be with you, so how do you expect to understand this? I'll put it in small words so you can understand Winchester, if Crowley died, Anna would have died too. He's her mate, her other half now, she'd have gone mad with grief or just wasted away."

Dean doesn't know what to say to that. Doesn't know if he should be insulted at the crack about him and Castiel or just ignore it because Gabriel's hurting. Fuck, no wonder Cas was so... agitated and Barachiel looked like he was about to lose it out there. And shit, shit, what does that mean for Cas since Dean's got his mark on his shoulder?

"She's stronger than that," he breathes out, and he wonders if Gabriel would even get he's not really thinking about Anna.

"Kutiel had such power of will. The leader of his garrison, strong, capable. When his mate Muriel died during the Second War... he just gave up. Laid down and died. His love for our Father wasn't enough to keep his soul on your plane or ours," Gabriel's voice drops to a low timbre and he's not looking at anything particular. "Anna, she might have held on. For Barachiel's sake, but she wouldn't have been Anna anymore. Not truly."

A sick clawing feeling works it's way up Dean's throat, choking him. "What happens to Cas then if..." he cuts himself off and carefully sits his beer down on the counter. He rubs his hand over his face before going on. "Zachariah sent me to the future once." That seems a good place to start.

"He what?" Gabriel's words are sharp, disbelieving.

Dean forces himself to shrug casually. "Wanted to teach me a _lesson_. Make me be a good boy and say yes." He smiles tightly. "Didn't quite work as you can see. But the future... it was a mess. I never... I never went after Sam, never even tried. So Sam went to Detroit, and he said yes. Zach sent me years after that... I saw Sa... Lucifer. Saw myself. Saw Cas. I was dead inside, lights on but no one home. In the end all the angels took their toys and went home. They left Cas. And I had to be dead inside for what I let happen to him."

Gabriel doesn't speak, and Dean doesn't dare turn to see if the archangel is looking at him.

"Had himself his own little... cult... orgy... whatever you want to call it. Drugged up to his eyeballs, fucking anything that moved, and drinking anything with an alcohol content." Dean blinks rapidly, and somehow saying it now, remembering it now, hurts more than seeing it. "And the idiot still loved me. Was still willing to die by my word."

"Castiel tied himself to you the moment he gave you his mark, Dean. There's no going back on that, no matter how you treat him," Gabriel says finally, but it's obviously not what he wants to say. "Where are our brothers by the way?" It's an obvious attempt to change the subject but yeah, Dean can handle that.

Dean rolls his shoulders. "Talking to each other last I saw. Elle was a little worked up and they probably wanted to compare notes on me being an idiot."

Gabriel snorts. "That's not something that needs much comparing notes about, Deano."

"Ha-ha," Dean says, rolling his eyes. "I'm going back to bed, something tells me I'm going need to rest."

Gabriel's laugh is dry and it cuts into Dean. He needs to be with Cas now, he needs Elle.

***

Sam lingers in the living room once everything quiets down. Anna had pretty much woken the whole house. Castiel had gone to fuss over Elle who hadn't settled down yet after all the excitement and Sam can still hear his brother talking to Gabriel in the kitchen. No one's started yelling and he hasn't heard anything break so he can only assume that it's going well. He expects them to fight, it would be too much to hope that they just have a civil conversation and...

Dean stops when he exits the kitchen and Sam realizes that he's been hovering around the doorway like some sort of mother hen.

"Waiting for the fireworks to start?" Dean asks, cocking his head to the side.

"A little bit." Sam confesses. The paranoid part of him had thought they were talking about him, but the sensible part figured that the demon in the basement was more important.

"Yeah well, Gabriel's a dick, don't get me wrong, but I'm pretty sure Cas will kick the shit out of me if I wake the kid up again."

There a lot of things that go through Sam's mind, ranging from apologies to comments on how whipped Dean is, but he can't seem to get any of them out. He just nods and Dean sighs, slipping past him to go up the stairs. Dean makes it up two steps before he stops and turns.

"Look... I... I shouldn't have freaked out on you like that," Dean says, voice pitched low.

Sam nods, because no, he shouldn't have, but... "I should have told you what was going on."

Dean nods and for a moment it's just as strained as it always is. Another flat apology with them not knowing how to look at each other or how to...

"Daaaadeeeeee!"

Sam can hear Castiel's exasperated sigh from upstairs and Dean can't hide the smile that suddenly breaks out across his face. Sam can't help but grin at that and shake his head. "She's gonna keep doing that until you go up there."

"Yeah, I know," Dean rolls his eyes before his smile lessens, but it doesn't fade. "So, are we good?"

Sam's not sure he'd say it was good. Nothing was ever good or how it used to be, and that was his fault. Mostly. But, maybe...

"We're better," he says and Dean nods just as Elle starts up the call again.

Sam watches his brother make his way up the stairs, his movement looser than it's been in ages and he hears the warm chuckle when Dean gets to the bedroom, the muffled 'Baby girl' before the door shuts. Dean needs that. He deserves that. Sam deserves...

"That was touching, I'm very touched."

He turns as Gabriel leans in the kitchen doorway, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His expression is pained and Sam feels his chest tighten. Castiel had been a wreck when they'd brought Crowley in, and Anna... it had been like looking at a ghost, he'd never seen her so pale and lost. He'd spotted Barachiel outside yelling and tossing his hands up while pacing the fence with Remiel watching him, his arms tight across his chest. Asking Gabriel if he was okay is probably a dumb idea. Instead he takes a step forward and slides the empty beer bottle out of Gabriel's hand, brushing their fingers together. Gabriel sighs, something low and aching as Sam leaves the bottle on a bookshelf. He'll deal with it later, he's got something more important to deal with now.

He's not quite sure about the boundaries of touching, Anna hadn't elaborated on that too much, but Sam figured with Gabriel being Gabriel he could wing it. So he wraps fingers around Gabriel's wrist and tugs in the barest of invitations.

It's apparently the right thing to do, because Gabriel takes a step forward and fists his other hand in Sam's t-shirt and just melts against him, burying his face against the side of Sam's neck. He's warm and lighter than Sam thought he'd be and he lets go of the archangel's wrist to wraps his arms around him because, well, he's already gotten away with this much. It turns out that's allowed too because Gabriel lets out a different sort of sigh, this one sounding more of relief, and presses against Sam as tightly as he can.

They stay like that for as long as they can, until the threat of Barachiel coming in or Bobby getting back up starts to loom in the back of Sam's mind. Gabriel makes a noise when Sam starts to pull back and Sam feels the smile on the archangels lips.

"I got your note, you giant girl," Gabriel teases.

Sam blushes instantly, he can't help it. He's torn between utter mortification that he actually did it and a sort of breathless tingly anticipation for what Gabriel will say next. But it's quiet, except for the crinkle of paper being pressed into his hand with tangled fingers. He doesn't want to look at it, even though he's got the angel practically wrapped around him there's still that chance that... that he's still being played with. But he's a grown up damn it, and he did leave the note. He asked for this without explanations so he damn well better... _Yes_.

He is fully aware that he's grinning like an idiot, like the girl he'd been staring at all year just said she'd go to prom with him. Only, Gabriel isn't a girl and high school really wasn't his thing. So, he guesses, it's like an archangel looking up at him like he's _important_ , and not in a body stealing apocalypse sort of way. In a better way, a much much better way. He pulls back and Gabriel looks like he's about to say something but... ah, fuck it.

Sam kisses Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord.

It's wonderful, brilliant, and the tiny, almost surprised noise that Gabriel makes is totally and completely worth it. Sam thought kissing Gabriel would be like fire, sharp and burning. But this isn't anything like that. This is sweet, slow, and almost chaste. Gabriel tastes like beer and chocolate and something Sam can't name but it makes him think of warm summer nights and a buzzy feeling of contentment. This isn't the Trickster, there aren't any sharp edges or hidden shadows. When Sam breaks the kiss the only thing staring at him is pure angel.

That look, it's a bit... intense. He doesn't know how Dean does it. "Um, was that too much?"

Then there's the smirk, warm and familiar. "You're asking _me_ if that was too much?"

"Well, Anna said..." Sam starts.

"Ah, so it _was_ Anna."

_Oops_ , Sam smiles. "Not entirely. Barach was the instigator."

Gabriel rolls his eyes, hands smoothing out Sam's shirt. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Just don't listen to anything he says."

"Anna already told me that." Sam grins, sliding a hand along Gabriel's waist.

"It bears repeating. You'd be surprised at how much bullshit he can deadpan before anyone calls him on it."

"So, if he tells me anything about you...?"

"Lies," Gabriel grins, slipping his fingers across the nape of Sam's neck. "Unless it's something good."

"Come upstairs," Sam says, leaning into the touch.

"Oh?" Gabriel leers before a softer smile settles on his features, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes, "Why?"

"Because I don't want to lie there and wonder where you are in the house and what you're doing," Sam tells him, embarrassed and exasperated at the same time.

Gabriel huffs out a small laugh, but follows him upstairs and closes the door behind them. Sam sits on the bed, watching Gabriel look around the room, stopping at the table where Sam has books and papers spread out. Gabriel is all nervous energy now, his fingers twitching across pages and tracing symbols. Sam doesn't like to see him like this, jittery, unsure, like he's coming apart at the seams. Like he's having to be someone he hasn't been in a very long time.

"I think I've figured out how to control Elle's shifts," Sam offers and Gabriel's fingers still.

"Really?" There's curiosity in his voice, and just enough pride that Sam has to try and not start blushing again.

"Yeah," he says, standing, pushing himself back into Gabriel's personal space and the archangel leans towards him like a moon caught in orbit. He flips a book open. "Barachiel said he could seal her into one form or the other but the problem was that if we just sealed her in human form, then all the power she would be generating as an angel wouldn't have anywhere to go. She isn't supposed to have two forms, they aren't quite compatible. She hasn't shifted in awhile, not after you guys took her flying, but that was the longest she'd spent in her angel form."

Sam moves a few papers out of the way. "So, I've got a theory, if we alter the symbols and instead, bind her to someone, probably Castiel. Then he should be able to control when she shifts and know when she needs to."

A moment passes as Gabriel considers before he grins. "That's actually a great idea."

Sam grins, because hey, he's been notorious for _not_ coming up with great ideas lately so he'll take the praise where he can get it, and because Gabriel stopped being a restless mess as soon as Sam had gotten close to him again. This was something he could work with. He bends, and presses a kiss to the spot behind Gabriel's ear, smiling at the noise Gabriel makes.

"Come lie down with me." He gets the leer again and adds, "Before you fall down."

Gabriel makes a face, like Sam isn't supposed to see it, like he was supposed to be blind to the flinch that went through Gabriel when they shut up the panic room. He wasn't supposed to see how quickly the archangel tore himself away from everyone. But despite what some people think, Sam isn't stupid and to be frank, the idea of Gabriel in his bed in any situation has been prodding at the back of his mind since Anna brought up courting.

Making faces aside, Gabriel follows him to the bed and lets Sam undress him down to his undershirt and boxers. He's like a little kid who's tired but not quite convinced that this whole "bed" thing is the solution to his problem. Sam turns the light off and drags Gabriel under the covers with him. The house is quiet, a change from the chaos that had broken out... shit, it hadn't even been an hour ago. He can hear low voices coming from Dean's room across the hall, though Elle's quiet now. It's peaceful but it takes long minutes before Gabriel finally sighs, something long, utterly exasperated and at the same time pleased as he twists, making himself comfortable buried under the covers and against Sam.

"Knew I picked the smart one," he murmurs against Sam's chest and Sam grins.

***

Crowley awakens to darkness. Darkness doesn't bother him, not normally. There's a warm weight against his chest, and the scent of Anna fills his senses. For a moment, he thinks they're in one of his bunkers, safe, and hidden behind layers of wards.

Then he remembers. Crowley's hands tighten fractionally on Anna as if she'll be ripped away any moment. She's sleeping, at least he thinks she's sleeping. He scents her again... there's pain lingering on her, the scent of blood. Hers, his, demon and the scent of ash.

He keeps himself still, no sense in giving away anything, not until he'd fully taken in the layout of where they were being held. He can feel the wards, heavy, complex, a devil's trap added in for good measure. These are wards that keep things in as much as they keep them out. Demon and angel. Some are new, he can sense the freshness of the power, angelic in nature, pulsing in them.

Some of it's familiar, so like Anna's but not hers.

Anna stirs against his chest. "Crowley?" her voice sounds strained, as if she's been crying, screaming.

"Shh," he hushes her, threading his fingers through her hair.

Jhudiel had wanted her, he remembers that part of their little session clearly. _"Where is my little Butterfly, demon?"_ the angel had crooned, carving symbols into Crowley's flesh. He told Crowley of Anna's torture in heaven, about how he'd touched her wings with his blade and made her weep. Crowley had... he'd been thankful he didn't know where Anna was, couldn't betray her to end his own pain. Wouldn't have to see any hand but his own on her.

"Crowley," Anna says again, worry clear in her voice. She nuzzles at his throat and drops kisses along his unmarked collar bone.

He stares up at the slowly turning fan, wrapping her hair around his fingers. "Why did you come for me?"

She snorts. "You'd rather I let you die?" her voice wavers. He can almost taste the fear, an emotion so sweet but it tastes like ashes coming from her.

"Die rather than see him get a hold of you? Yes!" Crowley hisses back.

Anna pulls away from him, peering down at him through the darkness. Not that either of them need much light to see clearly. "Crowley," she sighs. "We're safe here."

Crowley thinks about pushing himself up, but pain darts through him as he shifts. He's been healed but the body responds sluggishly and pain real or phantom echoes through the stolen flesh. "You moron," he growls at her. He should be furious at her; instead he's resigned, sad, afraid. Things demons shouldn't feel, but that's a lie. Demons feel all too much at times. They might be safe now but she'd placed herself in danger for him, she'd do it again. "You went right into his hands. I knew nothing."

"You were dying," Anna insists, anger of her own in her voice. He thinks her wings are out but he can't see them, not now.

He reaches up and runs his fingers through her brilliant red hair. "I'm a demon and hell's gates are open."

"You were _dying_ ," Anna insists again. She presses her forehead against his. "You _called_ to me. He was about to destroy your soul. No soul means no Crowley. No coming back from hell, no new bodies."

"I'm a demon, Anna," he reminds her, smile sharp and biting though his tone falls flat. "You're an angel. You love a dead human that you think you see in me. Not that I don't enjoy the benefits..."

She leans down and kisses him once, softly; he's never been able to just be angry at her. All the harsh words and the lies he tells to himself just slide off her like nothing, like she knows he doesn't mean it.

"You're _my_ demon and I would have laid down and died if I'd lost you," she whispers, laying her hand over where her mark once was. "If Remiel hadn't been able to heal you, even Barachiel couldn't have kept me in this world. I would have followed you into oblivion and given you absolution with my last ounce of grace."

He wants to rail at her, to scream, but he can't. He shouldn't have this, this is dangerous and wrong and... "Stubborn woman," he huffs, cupping the back of her neck as she settles against him, familiar shape, familiar warmth, all the pieces clicking into place though they shouldn't be.

"Where are we anyways, angel?"

Crowley can almost hear her blink as a smile tugs at her mouth. "Crowley, love, where do you think we are?" It's almost a tease.

He tries again but can't sense anything beyond the wards. "Well, I assume we aren't waiting for Jhudiel to decide he wants to torture us more or else you should really not be this calm. Really he's quite good at his job, he should send an application into hell for the chief torturer position. I hear there's a vacancy now." He ran through the short list of allies and family Anna had. She'd mentioned Remiel, one of the fallen and lieutenant to Lucifer. Maybe his Anna had pleaded with her brother and gained protection for them. He didn't much like the idea, but if it kept _her_ safe...

Anna smiles a bit wider. "We're in a panic room that belongs to a friend of the Winchesters. I brought us here. The Winchesters and my brothers are giving us temporary sanctuary while you heal."

Oh, she had to be kidding him...

"I am healed," he hisses and attempts to sit up, but his damn body won't listen to him. Winchesters, had to be the damn stupid Winchesters.

She raises an eyebrow. "So I see. Crowley you were nearly destroyed, soul and flesh. Give yourself some time to heal."

"And wait for the Winchesters to use me as target practice for that nifty gun of theirs that they _didn't manage to kill Lucifer with_?" Crowley asks, with a sharp snort. "No thank you."

Anna makes a noise very much like a laugh, sliding her arm around his waist, gently as if he'll break. "I'll protect you," she promises between kisses.

His fingers are back in her hair, and he breathes her in deeply. The fear and pain have eased away for the most part, now he knows that the blood on her is old. The blood is proof that his Anna can be, if one would excuse the term, a little hellcat. He wishes he could have seen her slaughter those other demons. She's glorious in battle. "An angel shield?"

"Never leave home without it or your American Express card," she laughs, and nuzzles his collar bone again.

"You're tired," he says softly, carding his fingers through her hair.

"I'm fine now," she breathes against him and lets him pull her against him as tightly as he can bear.

_I love you_ , he doesn't say, never says.

***

It's the strange hovering moment right before dawn and all is silent. Remiel is sitting on the gate, impossibly balanced with the wards to his back and his eyes closed. There's no one unaccounted for within miles, human or anything else. He can sense all of the shifting points of light that are his brothers and sister. He can feel the wards, where they warp and meet, the almost imperceptible lines in between that always need guarding. Gabriel and Castiel are upstairs, safe; the small flickering glow of the fledgling, Elle is tucked among Castiel's flagging grace, safe. He can tell vaguely where the Winchesters are now that he knows that he isn't looking for a human but more for the _absence_ of one. The hollow shape where the light and breath of the Earth curve just so. They are also upstairs, safe. The master of the house, Robert, is in his room still sleeping, safe. He can see the flicker of Anael and Crowley, light and dark intertwined in the panic room behind the extra layer of wards, safe. Barachiel is... was on the roof.

Remiel finds it difficult to keep up his meditation when he knows that Barachiel is standing _right in front of him_.

He doesn't know when the idiot slipped back through the wards and this bothers him. He can trace the pattern of energy that Barachiel left behind but he can't pinpoint the precise moment that he stepped off the roof and through the wards. He's already ranted and cried and had his say on the entire business of Anael and he'd gone back to guard the house once Remiel made it perfectly clear that surely Gabriel must no longer need him to guard outside the wards. _Remiel_ no longer needed him to guard outside the wards.

"Remiel?"

His mind is made up, he is going to ignore him. Lucifer bade him to simply guard the house and protect the fledgling. He'd gone after Anael because she'd presented a security risk and well, he was never fond of Jhudiel in the first place, he certainly wasn't going turn aside an actual opportunity to fight him. Fighting was calming, the simplicity of battle, it was almost as calming as tracking or...

"Remiel."

Or other things... Like... Paintings or sunsets or any of that new age drivel that Lucifer found so funny. Or trying to think quietly about things that weren't family and falling and ex-lovers...

"Remiel. Rem."

Oh for the love of... He knows when Barachiel shifts and he could probably do something about it but instead he just lets the insufferable fool reach up and poke him directly in the middle of the forehead.

"Reeeeeeeeem."

_Fine._

"I am of the singular mind that you want to lose that limb, Barachiel."

A snort. "You wouldn't."

He sounds like an idiot with that accent, smashing vowels together with abandon. It's messy and reckless, it suits him.

"I think you might be unpleasantly surprised," Remiel keeps his voice even, inflectionless, blank.

"You'd have to catch me first," Barachiel says, a teasing challenge in his voice.

That's a normal trick of Barachiel's. He's trying to start a game, some sort of frantic play that will lead to whatever he wants it to lead to. Remiel has chased Barachiel enough in his lifetime to know that he won't be caught unless he wants to be and even then, never kept.

"I am not in the mood for any of your games. You are outside the wards and exposed, you are being a danger to the fledgling."

Barachiel huffs, reaching up to annoyingly tweak at Remiel's coat and hair. Stray touches, which is what Barachiel does when the game fails. "I'm not doing nothin' to no one. You're out here and..."

Remiel's hand moves, lighting quick almost before he knows what he's doing and clamps around Barachiel's wrist, before the angel can reach out again and brush at his hair, tight enough that he can hear the bones in Barachiel's vessels creak under his grip. They're both silent for a moment and when he opens his eyes Barachiel is gritting his teeth in pain but he isn't trying to retaliate or even get away. Survival instinct of a grapefruit.

"So, um, are we ever going to, ah, talk?"

Remiel waits a moment before he releases his hold on Barachiel who jumps back, shaking his hand like the human he's pretending to be.

"No."

"Oh, alright then. I guess..."

Now that's new. That shoulder rolling kicked puppy look. He didn't think Barachiel was capable of regret or despair, perhaps he learned it somewhere. Perhaps Remiel taught it to him without knowing. But he isn't here to look into mirrors that he thought he'd broken, or to find new pathways across bridges that have been burnt. Lucifer will not be pleased with him if he... His fingers brush across Barachiel's wrist when the angel turns to go back to the house. He knows he didn't hurt Barachiel, not physically. But that isn't what prodded awake this seed of guilt. Barachiel stops and for a moment it's just that point of contact, three fingers and stolen breaths.

"Did you know? That you were gonna fall?" Barachiel's voice is low, like someone could hear him. "Is that why you... stopped coming around?"

"I stopped courting you Barachiel, because it was never going to amount to anything. I wasn't what you wanted." It is a resigned answer, a much repeated and memorized one.

"That's not true," Barachiel hisses, so suddenly that Remiel's head snaps up in shock to look at him. "Don't ever think that's true."

Remiel has never seen fire in Barachiel like this. All of his memories pale in comparison to this, to now; this vessel, burning bright and painted in such strange human colors, as captivating as ever. His mouth has gone dry and he has the barest thought that it wasn't supposed to do that, but Barachiel has raised his hand, tempting fate once more and when he slides his fingers into Remiel's hair it's the most infinitely tender thing he's ever known. He wants to tell Barachiel to stop, that neither of them have the time or lives for this anymore. But all the words tangle in his throat when Barachiel's warm brown eyes soften around the edges and he says it.

"I would have fallen with you."

Years of broken pieces fall into place. "I know."

Barachiel's sweet smile is blinding, like the light in heaven and all Remiel wants to do is...

"You should go inside," he breathes, closing his eyes.

He hears Barachiel sigh, feels Barachiel's fingers curl just briefly around his skull before they slip away. "Fine, if that's how you wanna play it."

Remiel wants to tell him that he doesn't want to play anything anymore. He just wants. He lets Barachiel walk away grumbling as he makes his way through the wards and into the house. Remiel can sense him in the kitchen, sulking and probably eating all of the humans food. Safe.

Then he turns his attention to the woman who is standing in the road.

She's petite, pale and freckled with bouncy red curls and glasses. She's wearing a gray pea coat and a rose colored dress, with ridiculously floral patterned rain boots and in her right hand is a pink box tied with string. She smiles sweetly when she looks at him, green eyes snapping to black as he stands.

"He's cute, Remiel. I like him. It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Her voice drips with mock kindness.

"Not long enough, Amon. What do you want?"

The demon's grin fades. "We've had a change of management while you've been away. Zachariah says it's time to cut down all the lone wolves. Only team players allowed now."

That wasn't possible. "Lucifer..."

"Haven't you heard? He's gone. Missing since last night. No contact. No orders..." Amon swings the pink box back and forth.

Something very close to fear starts to work its way up Remiel's spine. He'd gone to report last night and the church had indeed been empty. He hadn't thought much of it, Lucifer could come and go if he wished. If he could call...

"He won't hear you." Amon grins. "Neither will any other of the fallen."

A blade shimmers into existence in Amon's free hand. It's short, jagged and looks like it's made of bone. A Horseman's blade. Death's blade...

"Jhudiel said to save you for last."

Shit.


	9. Chapter Eight: Four Sticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mates are taken and the storm finally breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original a/n's from Jun 9th 2010:
> 
> Betas: sweetsyren  
> Spoilers: Up to 5x10  
> A/N: I think you can tell this took forever. Apologies, we'll try to not do it again. XD  
> Summary: Mates are taken and the storm finally breaks.

Chapter Eight: Four Sticks

_“The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.”_ \- G. K. Chesterton

Remiel rolls to the side as the pink box gets flung at him. It misses and strikes the fence post. He has about a moment to reach in between and retrieve his weapon before he realizes that the box is emitting smoke, something thick, choking making it almost impossible to see normally and magically. Okay, perhaps this was going to be marginally trickier than he thought. The smoke was just a feint at best, concealment, he narrowed his senses as Amon giggled. Something high and feminine and wrong.

"You're not going to kill me," Amon's voice echoes through the smoke, though there's not a single point where it originates from. He'd be stupid to think that Amon is at the same disadvantage as him. The demon is toying with him, drawing him... where? Away from the wards? He can still feel them hovering behind him through the smoke. He shifts back until he meets the wards again, pressing his back to them, waiting.

"I highly doubt that," he ventures, listening more to the shifting of the smoke than for footsteps or...

There, fingers tightening around a knife. He's through the smoke, sliding to the left as he hears Amon grunt, blade striking nothing. He tries to counter, blade sweeping through smoke but he doesn't hit anything. Again and again, blades through smoke, striking nothing. He would be panting if he were human.

The silence grows, thickening with the smoke and Amon sighs like a bored school child. "We could be at this for ages, Remiel."

"Surely not," Remiel crouches, listening, "This smoke will only last for a few hours at most."

Amon laughs, a true laugh, not something mocking this time. "I am truly sorry for this, Remiel. If you would side with us, I could be most merciful."

"I don't think you know what mercy is," Remiel growls. It's gone too quiet, the smoke too still.

"'As merciless as the waters of the Flood', isn't that the saying?" Amon purrs, smug smile evident in the tone of his vessel's voice.

He's missing something, some detail... Why had Amon stopped attacking?

"Do you recall the Flood, Remiel? I wasn't there for it. I heard it was magnificent."

It hadn't been magnificent at all. It had been terrible... It had been misery... He'd lost so much... Remiel gasps and dives backwards before it's almost too late. He can _feel_ the blade hum across his skin as he falls back, barely hanging onto any semblance of balance.

"Do you remember your little human _pet_ , Remiel?" Amon hisses, disappearing again. "She remembers you. Little Emily dreams of wings and rising water. Why do you think we were drawn to her? Calling out for her angels but you were too deaf to listen. I listened."

It was lifetimes ago, pushed so far back in his mind that he'd thought he'd forgotten. Only Barachiel had shaken everything free. Reminded him of days that weren't spent in the pit, days when he could see the sun and feel the breeze on his face. Days where Barachiel would take him flying and point out interesting things to him. Interesting _humans_. He remembered laughter and copper blond hair and the flutter of dyed fabric drying in the breeze. Two sets of hands on his borrowed human vessel, three bodies curled up in furs, the way Barachiel radiated joy like a sun whenever they were all in that tiny house. The time he was content before the Flood, before the Morningstar truly raged, before he doubted, before he fell.

"Now it came about, when men began to multiply on the face of the land, and daughters were born to them..." Amon's voice echoed in the smoke, and Remiel spun, striking at nothing. "...the sons of God saw that the daughters of men were beautiful; and they took wives for themselves..."

The demon's voice trailed off, leaving him in silence again, and Remiel struggles to sense the wards. He needs to get back to them, it is his only landmark in this smoke and... He twists as Amon leaps through the smoke, face contorted in a vicious snarl, and blade tearing through the air. For a moment he's disoriented, falling, before he catches what he thinks might be a wrist and a sharp point of pain blossoms on his cheek and then drags lower. It burns and he grunts as he tosses Amon off, who rolls away in the smoke as if he'd never been there.

He lays in the dirt, blinking, because it can't be true. Amon couldn't have known about... Zachariah would have though, or Jhudiel. His vision blurs and his face throbs where the blade touched him. He's exposed, vulnerable, and worst of all, falling for his own tricks. Remiel scrambles to his feet, dragging his blade with him. He sways and his breathing sounds so loud in the quiet, but he can't stop gasping and... his hand trembles as he raises it to his cheek, his blood burns when it touches his fingertips. Amon was right, he wasn't going to kill him. He wasn't going to even get the chance.

"Now, if Jhudiel is correct, you should be feeling a little bit funny right now..." Amon's voice distorts in the smoke and Remiel staggers as his head swims.

Whatever was on that blade is playing merry hell with his equilibrium, he can't see or hear... He _has_ to get between Amon and the wards. He has to tell someone that Lucifer is missing... He has to... He gets slammed into from behind, and he hits the ground hard, losing his grip on his blade. Remiel grits his teeth, he can still sense his sword, somewhere to his right, something...

He reaches and his fingers brush against the wards.

The moment of triumph is short lived. In the space of a second he knows that Amon is behind him, feels the air move above him, he scrambles making a last ditch effort to turn away, to _move_...

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of her and your angel."

Despite himself and his reputation, he screams.

***

Castiel is quiet as he makes his way downstairs, listening intently to Elle who is in his arms, playing with the collar of his shirt and repeating a story Gabriel told her. The details are familiar but he was quite certain that the inventor of modern vehicles was not a lemur. Nor was the first car named after Gabriel. But he nods politely and decides to speak to his brother about the grand fabrications he's telling his fledgling. Of course it was all very possible that at some point in time Gabriel did indeed turn someone into a lemur and Elle got it mixed up. Castiel frowns slightly, separating fact from fiction when Gabriel is concerned may prove more difficult than he first thought.

He had intended to speak to his brother but... But Gabriel had been in Sam's room when he'd risen with Elle and... He hoped they wouldn't ask him to tell Dean this time. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed playing the messenger when so many things could go wrong. Perhaps that was another reason why Gabriel left. It really was a terrible vocation. Elle has switched stories and is talking about flying again which makes him smile. He would be pleased to not have to worry about taking his daughter flying. There's still so much she hasn't seen, things that he hopes will still be intact once all of this is over.

Barachiel is digging around in the refrigerator rather fiercely when he enters the kitchen, grumbling to himself in several different languages. The early dawn casts an odd half light though the kitchen.

"Barachiel?" Castiel frowns when his brother jumps and makes everything in the refrigerator shake and clink together.

Elle giggles as Barachiel stands, rubbing his shoulder. "Damn, Castiel. I thought you were Robert for a second."

"And you wish to avoid him?" Castiel asked, pondering the working of the highchair that Gabriel had conjured.

"Um, no...maybe?" Barachiel walked over and clicked open the highchair, closed it, opened it again and then closed it. "He makes me clean if he thinks I'm bored. I mean who does that? Besides mums?"

"Bottle!" Elle demands.

"Robert, obviously." Castiel said, opening the highchair as he'd seen Barachiel do, slipping Elle inside. She held out her hands for her lion which he removes from his pocket and hands to her. She had decided after some deliberation to leave Sir Bear Bear with Dean, for protective reasons.

Barachiel chuckles as he returns to the fridge. "Your mate's giving you bad habits. "Bein' cheeky to archangels now, are you?"

Castiel is reading the instructions on the back of the container of Elle's formula, he's mostly certain she does not need it for actual sustenance but Sam informed him that routines can be important in a child's life. "I do not see how making conversation can be considered 'sassing' anything."

Barachiel is grinning and he's about to say something when Elle whimpers, then makes a sharp wailing sound.

It only takes a moment for Castiel to have her in his arms and then he sees the smoke billowing at the gate through the kitchen window. There's too much of it for it to be an actual fire, no flames, there's nothing out there to burn. It's not...

"That ain't natural," Barachiel echoes his thoughts as Elle makes another pitiful noise and clutches at Castiel's shirt. Barachiel is rigid, staring at the smoke covered gate like an animal spotting prey. "Where's Remiel?" he breathes and Castiel frowns.

That's concerning. If there was trouble at the gate then, by all past evidence, Remiel would be there. He'd kept his word, he'd protected the house, saved Anna from Jhudiel, healed Crowley...

"Barachiel..." Castiel breathes as he watches the archangel shake his head, panic is creeping up on his features as he inches towards the door.

"Somethin's wrong. Something is..."

Elle shrieks once as the windows vibrate with an inhuman scream. She buries her face into Castiel's shirt and clings to him.

"Rem!" Barachiel is out the front door before Castiel can even react, his mouth open to shout as he watches his brother disappear into the cloud of smoke.

He's at the bottom of the stairs just as Gabriel and Sam appear at the top.

"What the hell was that?" Gabriel snaps and Castiel glances out the front door.

"I believe it was Remiel."

Gabriel is over the banister, not even bothering with the rest of the stairs and stopping at the front door, scanning the mess of smoke. Castiel swallows, trying to govern the fresh choking panic that threatens him. Some small wholly human urge to run, hide, protect his young.

"What the fuck is it now?"

Dean is angry and worried and still half asleep and he sounds _beautiful_.

"I am not sure," Castiel manages as Dean pushes past his brother, coming down the stairs to settle his hand against the back of Castiel's neck. It's warm, comforting and Dean tugs him a little, until he turns and they are pressed together, Elle between them protectively. Castiel feels the panic in him quiet.

Sam is on the stairs, his head dipped, watching Gabriel in the doorway. For a long moment, all of them are still and then Barachiel shouts. Gabriel is out the door, cutting through the smoke and seconds later something screams and there's a low buzz as a darker cloud rises from the smoke.

A demon.

He sees Dean frown and hears Sam hum low in his throat, almost a growl. That's when the wind comes, something strong and smelling of mint. Castiel instinctively covers Elle, as the wind tears the smoke from the front gate. The shadows of Gabriel's wings are visible only for a moment, bright around the edges before they fade. Gabriel is holding a woman in his arms, bending so he doesn't drop her and Barachiel is running away from them, falling to his knees over a crumpled form that lies in front of the gate.

"Shit," Sam breathes and then Castiel is shifting Elle into Dean's arms because it's safe now and Gabriel appears to be trying to do seven things at once. Elle makes a grab at his shirt and a noise of protest tangled up with the word for father he'd taught her.

Castiel forces him self away though, because Gabriel needs him and she's safe with Dean. He runs to the gate and Gabriel is pressing the woman into his arms through the wards before he rushes to Barachiel. She's bruised and smells faintly of sulfur but is otherwise whole. Castiel waits a moment before he turns back to the house, Gabriel and Barachiel are speaking low and frantically and he can't take the pain he hears in Barachiel's voice.

"Possessed?" Dean asks as Castiel lays the woman on the couch. Elle is still secure in his arms, and she stares at the woman.

"She was. She does not appear to be injured."

It's at that point Robert comes into the room, and Castiel sees the man's eyes widen. "Christ," Robert whispers. "Emmy."

Dean's head whips around towards him. "You know her? Dude, she just took out..." he paused. "She was possessed."

Castiel is grateful for Dean's self edit. He doesn't wish to think what will happen to Barachiel if Remiel dies. They aren't mated but ...

Elle is too young to learn such loss. Please Father.

"Emily Parish," Robert says, kneeling down next to the couch to check her vitals. He brushes her hair back from her face gently. "She went missing a couple of months ago. I've known her family for years. I tried to find her for her mother but I was... limited." He glanced down at his now healed legs.

"Can't say demons don't have twisted sense of humors," Dean growls under his breath.

Robert shakes his head. "After that long with a demon riding her, then an exorcism? Damn miracle she's alive." there's something not quite right with the flow of it as it is"

Castiel wants to say that it was probably Gabriel's intention that she live but that's when things turn frantic again. Barachiel is in the doorway carrying Remiel, the fallen's face painted with blood and Gabriel is behind them, barking at Barachiel to take him to the kitchen. Gabriel shoves the kitchen table over as Barachiel settles down on the floor with Remiel in his lap. Remiel's coat is dark with blood and it smears on the tile floor everywhere it touches. Castiel hears Sam hiss behind him as Barachiel pulls Remiel up and he sees the handle of the knife sticking out of the fallen's shoulder.

"Is that what I fucking think it is?" Barachiel snaps, anger and horror mixing in his features.

Gabriel grabs a kitchen towel, tossing it to the other angel. "Horseman's blade. Don't touch it, but it's gotta come out _now_."

Barachiel doesn't hesitate, flipping the towel in his hand until he can grip the handle, Remiel jerks against him the moment his hand brushes it and then Gabriel is on both of them, pinning Remiel, holding him still. It's a terrible thing to watch, but Castiel isn't sure he can look away. Had the demon been trying to get through the wards? Had it not known that Remiel would be there? How...

Remiel screams when Barachiel finally gets a hold of the handle and pulls. Castiel hears Dean and Robert gasp and Sam grunt, he's kneeling by Remiel before he even knows it, covering his mouth before he can hurt the humans and trying to hold his other arm as the fallen struggles blindly. Elle is crying in distress, almost wailing, her form shimmering as if she's going to shift while Dean rocks her, keeps his hand cupped around her head so she doesn't look, and Castiel closes his eyes as he hears Barachiel, voice wrought with desperation.

"Gabriel, thing's not _budging_."

"It's probably barbed, you're gonna have to..." Barachiel whimpers like Elle when Gabriel trails off but they shift him and Castiel opens his eyes, tries to not see the stricken looks on his family's faces as Barachiel pushes the blade through Remiel's shoulder until he can pull it through the other side.

Remiel's screaming is horrible, Castiel can feel it under his hands, and seems like it takes forever, one long dragging moment trapped in time before Barachiel flings the blade to the kitchen floor and presses his hand to Remiel's shoulder. Remiel goes limp against him and it's then that Castiel realizes he's been holding his breath. Castiel sits back as Gabriel does. There's blood on both his hands, dark smears of it everywhere. Robert is standing, glancing from the woman, Emily, to the kitchen and back. Sam and Dean are huddled in the kitchen doorway, the same pained expression on their faces, Dean's hand running over Elle's hair as she sniffles into his shirt.

Castiel knows how she feels.

"Well, that was a great way to wake up in the morning," Gabriel sighs. "Let's never do it again."

Sam rolls his eyes as Barachiel laughs weakly, dropping his head to rest against Remiel's as the tension finally starts to ease out of the room.

"Is he healing?" Gabriel asks as he stands, holding a hand out for Castiel. They're both bloody so Castiel accepts it, standing as Barachiel traces symbols of healing around the wound on Remiel's shoulder.

"Yeah," Barachiel nods. "Looks good, it's just slow going. I think he might be poisoned, but that's fading."

Gabriel lets out a breath and shakes his head. "Good. I'd hate to have to go downstairs and slap Crowley awake to see if he knows how to heal a fallen."

"Shouldn't someone let Anna know what's happened?" Sam speaks up, edging towards Gabriel hesitantly in a way that speaks of wanting to give comfort but unsure if it'll be welcome. "Wards or not..."

Castiel hadn't thought of that but now that he has he knows that their sister must be frantic.

"Good point, I'll..." Gabriel roll his eyes and is in the process of turning towards the kitchen door when Remiel jerks in Barachiel's grip.

He's trying to move, struggling to get away while Barachiel struggles to keep a hold of him. Castiel and Gabriel immediately slide between him and the humans in the house because the fallen is dangerous when he _isn't_ injured and possibly delirious. Castiel remembers weapons lessons with Remiel, he's not sure that much could stop the fallen if he decided he wanted out of the house.

"Oi! Quit movin' you stupid wanker! It's just me!" Barachiel's voice has just the hint of his angelic nature in it and as soon as he shouts Remiel stills, staring blindly at the ceiling until his face twists into a grimace of pain and Barachiel hauls him close again.

"Yeah, that hurt didn't it?" Barachiel chides. "Silly bastard, come here."

Remiel curls around Barachiel hiding his face against his shoulder and from the attentive expression on Barachiel's face the fallen is saying something. Castiel can just make out the words from Barachiel in their tongue, "She's fine... no... it's gone... Gabriel. Yes. Yes. Can't be. Well... No. Yes, of course I believe you, don't have a fit." Barachiel looks once towards the living room with an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes meeting Robert's for a moment before turning back to Remiel. "It's alright, don't... What? What do you mean gone? Rem..." Barachiel is making a 'hmmm' sort of noise. The same noise that Dean makes whenever Castiel has to present him with particularly unwanted information.

After a moment Barachiel shushes Remiel, smoothing his hair back before he looks up at the gathered household and frowns.

"Uh, I'm not sure if this is a good thing..." Barachiel starts in English and Dean sighs.

"Just tell us all at once," Gabriel orders.

"'Kay, apparently the demon was here to kill Rem."

That was... Castiel frowned. "Why would Lucifer send a demon to kill his own lieutenant?"

Barachiel looks up at him and frowns. "Lucifer didn't send it. Rem says that Zach did. That somethin's wrong. He says that Lucifer is gone, he kept saying he couldn't hear him, call him."

"Gone?" Gabriel asks, frowning, Castiel can almost see him thinking, the half dozen expressions that cross his face. "Gone where?"

Barachiel shrugs. "He just said gone. Off the map I guess."

"In the middle of the apocalypse?" Sam asks suspicion and hopeful relief on his features.

" _Is_ that good?" Dean asks, cradling Elle against his side. Their fledgling looks anxious and scared, in a way Castiel never wanted her to be.

"Not if Zachariah is ordering demons around now," Gabriel grumbles. He runs his fingers through his hair and Castiel wonders if Gabriel knows how tired he looks.

Dean makes a sound in the back of his throat, Castiel wants to go to him but there's blood on his hands and he's afraid that if he touches Dean right now that he'll take them all someplace safe, anywhere that's not here. "Fuck," Dean breathes. "We didn't need this. Who's powerful enough to take out Lucifer?"

Barachiel shakes his head. "No one... I mean technically another archangel could do the job but..."

"I don't think Lucifer is dead. We would have known," Gabriel says softly, he breathes out noisily through his nose. Sam edges closer again and Castiel has to look away. "Zachariah doesn't have the power, even if he has demons following him now. The only one that could do anything permanent is Michael and Dean sure as hell didn't say yes to him."

"That really doesn't help us," Sam complains.

"No shit!" Gabriel snaps, but then looks apologetic as he runs his fingers through his hair again. "Someone needs to go see if what Remiel said about Lucifer is true and... and probably look into whatever the hell Zachariah is up to now. We've gotten away with playing the passive role for a while but I get the feeling that won't work as well anymore."

With that said Gabriel turns and walks out of the kitchen, sparing a glance for Sam who sighs and leans against the doorway. Castiel frowns slightly before making a decision and going after Gabriel. Dean can protect their child, and he knows Sam would help.

"Gabriel," Castiel starts moving behind his brother. Following him out onto the porch.

Gabriel's back tenses. "What?" he snaps.

Castiel hesitates then presses on. "What are you planning?"

Gabriel sighs and then turns, shaking his head. "I think I have a bead on the last place Lucifer was having his little rave at. If what Remiel says is true then there's... There is a small possibility that Zachariah has done _something_. I doubt he's killed him but he could trap him temporarily. And if there are demons that are listening to him, demons as high on the ladder as Amon then..."

"It's too dangerous for you to go alone," Castiel insists, reaching out to tighten his fingers on his brother's shoulder. The fear of losing Gabriel again is too great, especially with Remiel having come so close to death. "I will go with you."

"No," Gabriel says instantly. "Don't bullshit with me, you need to stay with Elle and Dean. I'm not gonna argue about that, even a little bit."

"Don't go alone, Gabriel. Take someone..."

"Who? Barach isn't going to leave Remiel for a second now. I'm not going to risk any of the humans."

Castiel frowns. "Anna then, if she's well enough. She knows Crowley will be safe here if she leaves him."

Gabriel is tense for a long moment before he nods. "I'll ask her."

Castiel lets out a breath and Gabriel bumps his shoulder in silent thanks as he turns and heads back in the house. Castiel watches him make his way past the kitchen and nods quietly to himself as he sees Sam turn and follow Gabriel down to the panic room.

Gabriel was right. They may not be able to remain passive for long.

***

Barachiel decides that he is not going to care how much Rem bitches when he's awake, he is considering his condition 'shitkicked' and providing the requisite fussing. Also, that crap at the gate? Sending him inside before the demon showed? Barach isn't stupid. Rem knew. There're gonna be words later. Now that there is a later. Shit. Another inch with that fucking knife and he would have been tearing down to hell itself to get him back. Stupid knife. Stupid demons.

"You just gonna sit there in the kitchen with him?" Robert snaps as Barachiel sighs.

All the other humans have buggered off with their respective partners, not that he blames them. Gabriel and Anna, she was looking so much better thank Father, had gone off on some magical adventure to find Lucifer and he's gotta... he's gotta... "I dunno where else to put him! You're out of rooms!" If that sentence is more whiny than usually well, Barachiel is just gonna blame it on stress.

Robert appears in the kitchen doorway all frowny and radiating disappointment like normal.

"I ain't fighting Crowley for the panic room," Barachiel pouts fiercely.

Robert sighs. "You can take some of the blankets out of the hall closet and haul him up to the barn. I don't want him attacking anyone in the house 'cause he doesn't know where he is."

That's fair. He'd been hiding out there when he wasn't on the roof and the barns actually quite nice. Barachiel nods and scoops up Remiel, who's a heavy bastard when he's out, and they're almost through the living room and out to the barn when, of course, Rem decides he's gonna wake up again and start babbling about _Eala_ of all people, grabbing onto the couch like a fucking three year old.

When Rem starts doing his impression of a bag of angry cats, Barach drops to one knee and hangs onto him as best he can. Remiel is going on about dead people in Enochian and then Greek and Barach is trying to keep up with him as Robert stares at them.

"What is his issue?" Robert frowns as Barachiel shifts Remiel to the floor so he can look at him.

"I dunno, he's not making any sense, it's probably the poison. He thinks..." Barachiel rolls his eyes. "He thinks she's someone else. Someone we knew like a billion years ago. It's probably why he didn't attack the demon that was in her."

Remiel whines and pushes against him without doing much. He's starting to tire out at least, maybe if Barachiel just sat on him... But now Remiel is a mess and he's just begging, saying please over and over while Robert is looking at Barach like he needs to fix this _right now_.

Bollocks.

He shoves Remiel up, cups his face and whispers to him; soft words of comfort, nonsense, until he calms.

"Look," he starts. "She's alright. She's safe. I didn't hurt her. Gabriel didn't hurt her. She's fine. Robert's gonna take care of her, you gotta let me take care of you, okay?"

Another whine and a broken whisper. "Please..."

Barachiel sighs. If there was anything to be said about Remiel it was that he was a stubborn bastard when he got a hold of something. "If I look her over, if I _make sure_ she's alright are you gonna let this go? Just for a little bit? Just until you're better, eh?"

A long moment passes, a way too fucking long moment, before Remiel nods.

"Thank you," Barachiel says to no one in particular as he leans Remiel against the couch. He shuffles over on his knees after cleaning all the blood off himself with a thought. He's trying to not look up at Robert because then he'd look guilty and he wouldn't be able to explain why. He feels silly because okay, she sort of looks like Eala, he'll give Rem that, but the hair is all wrong and he can't sense anything that...

Wait a minute. He can't sense anything. Something was blocking him. He must make a face because Robert is right there givin' him the evil eye.

"What?"

"Um," Barachiel frowns until he feels the barest edges of magic, there on her back. "Can you help me lift her? Somethin's not on the level and I'd like to look before she comes to and smacks me."

That gets dry and slightly forced chuckle from Robert, but it's still a chuckle. "That she would," he says, moving to help Barachiel. "You'd better be careful with her."

"Promise," Barachiel nods as he gingerly runs his fingers across the small of her back while Robert holds her. Something is definitely magic there, cold and hissing with power. He sighs. "If I have to possibly lift up her dress are you going to kill me?"

That gets him a narrowed eye look. "You'd better have a good reason for it. I knew this girl as a baby."

"I promise I'm not trying to be a giant pervert but she's got some sorta magic on her and I can't quite..." He gingerly slides up the pink dress, thankful that she's wearing leggings since this is already crazy awkward, hell, this was probably worse than that time he fell asleep naked on top of the Royal Bank and ended up on the BBC. But then he blinks, because there across the small of her back in twisting pink scars are two lines of symbols that very much should not be there. He swallows and very carefully presses fingers across them, pushing past the magic that's blocking him and feels the familiar twisting warmth of a human soul. Something in him clenches and for a moment he sees green fields, Remiel sunning himself on that rock in his old vessel, the steamy rich smell of fabric dye and that voice telling him to keep his fingers out of it or so help her she's going to...

Barachiel tips backwards and sprawls out on his ass trying to blink away memories.

Robert's face turns stormy. "What?" he demands.

"Uhhh," Barachiel starts and then realizes that really isn't a good way to start anything. "Um, Rem might not be as delirious as I thought."

"What's wrong with her?" Robert's body language shifts as protectively as he is around the two Winchesters.

Emily's eyelashes flutter for a moment, and she breathes a word this girl in the here and now shouldn't know. Then just as quickly she falls back into unconsciousness. Barachiel winces. He shouldn't be around her because all the marks and light he and Rem left on Eala are going to start lighting up in this girl and after the day... months she's had...

"It's nothing wrong. It just makes some more sense now why they'd send her. If you knew her, and Rem and I knew her, then she could cock a lot up before someone figured out exactly what was going on. If Rem hadn't been all guard dog at the gate then... Well, I'm not sure what that demon could have gotten away with."

"You two know her?"

"It's a long story..."

"You want to start at the beginning maybe?" Robert shoots him a stern look as Barachiel glances at Remiel, curled in on himself by the couch. He'd thought that demon had been fucking with Rem, he'd hoped, because demons lied. That's what they did. He didn't think that the truth could be so much worse.

"Okay, long ass time ago before cable and indoor plumbing there was a girl called Eala that Rem and I... Well, we liked her. Dallied with her when we shouldn't have. Left our marks on her when we shouldn't have and it was all very silly and idyllic until Dad got properly angry at the humans and decided to flood the place. He didn't exactly let us save our favorites. She died, Rem fell, I fucking forgot about it." Barachiel hisses the last sentence.

He can see Dean and Castiel making their way back down the stairs and he shakes his head. Dean is holding Elle, whose eyes are still so very wide. "Doesn't matter now. Look, these marks. She should not have these. This line here? It's like a vacancy sign for demons, any bastard worth his salt could possess her without a lick of trouble. This other one?" Barachiel isn't sure if he should explain, the words 'tramp stamp' keep wanting to bubble out of his mouth but he doesn't want Robert to pick him up and throw him across the yard. "That second one is... Well, it's Remiel's name, they bound her with his name so we couldn't sense her. Nothing angelic could. It's like a fake mark so anyone would think she's already claimed and leave her alone."

Castiel looks over at him worriedly, but there's also a trace of disappointment that makes Barachiel wonder how much Castiel heard. "Brother?"

Barachiel knows he's got that haunted look, that one that he tried so hard to shake after the flood, after Rem's Fall. The one that takes way too much alcohol to get rid of. He plasters a smile on his face and is saved from having to answer his brother by Robert, angry and insistent.

"Well, what the hell could have done that to her? The demons?"

"Most likely," Barachiel frowns. "But these aren't recent. She's had them for a long time, since she was a kid, I'd reckon."

He wonders what her dreams are like, if she remembered more than shadows and smells. It's a long moment of silence before he realizes that was probably not the thing to say.

"A kid?" Robert has gone pale and looks like he wants to punch something, Barachiel hopes it isn't him. Castiel is frowning at him and Dean looks a bit shocked and disgusted. Elle reaches over and pats Castiel's face.

"It seems that way," Barachiel grumbles, because he really doesn't want to think about it either. Because how did her parents not _notice_ such a thing on their child?

Castiel makes a soft noise in this throat. "You marked her?" he asks quietly in their tongue.

Barachiel winces, he doesn't need this now. He doesn't need to explain to the fledgling that sometimes, even when you fight for it, even when you try hanging on it isn't enough. But that blue stare doesn't go away and he ends up looking down at Eala, at Emily, at those hideous marks that something carved into her because of _him_.

"Yes, I marked her," he says back in their tongue, ignoring the looks he gets from Dean and Robert.

"And then you forgot?" There's too much accusation in Castiel's tone, too much disappointment and it feels like a chain, tightening in a place that he thought he'd gotten rid of.

"Fuck, Castiel it wasn't like that," Barachiel hisses and he sees Dean raise an eyebrow at the 'fuck'. There really wasn't a good translation for it in their tongue. He knows the next question and he can't explain it, not without cracking everything open like a rotted fruit. He'd just gotten used to the fact that Remiel was there, whole and just as stubborn as ever, waiting by the gate, and now... "Do you really want to know?" his voice is low and hollow. "Do you really want to know what it's like? When your human mate dies and you don't? When the only thing keeping you alive is in hell? You forget, Castiel! You forget or you die."

Elle whimpers in Dean's arms as Castiel's eyes drop, finally breaking his stare. Barachiel squeezes his eyes shut because that was a shit thing to do and he... Shit. _Shit._

"Castiel, shit, I'm sorry," he gets out in English. It's tense for far too long until Castiel nods without looking up and now Barachiel wants to explain, he wants something... Castiel was still so young when it all happened, he's still young. Barachiel shouldn't be laying this at his feet. Especially not now, not in front of his human mate and his fledgling and...

"We tried to save her..." Remiel's voice is rough, distant. He's still hunched over by the couch, his eyes closed. "Don't think we didn't try."

He says it in English and Barachiel sees Dean glance up, trying to read between the lines, between him and Cas. It's Robert that thankfully puts an end to it.

"Well, that's all fine and well, but can we go back to 'vacancy sign for demons'?"

"Ah, that..." Barachiel starts as Castiel turns, suddenly, too suddenly and makes his way upstairs. He gets an angry glare from Dean and stays quiet because yeah, he deserved that. Elle makes a sharp distressed noise as Castiel leaves. She says something that's not quite clear before starting to chew on her lion again, while fat tears roll down her face. Barachiel watches as Dean rocks her, disappearing into the kitchen, shaking his head.

"Well, you're just hittin' them out of the park today, aren't you?" He manages a weak smile for Robert as the man gestures towards Emily, "At least tell me you can fix this."

That was... He couldn't... The complications of something like that would... If he... He'd be bound... He couldn't... Barachiel stops, his eyes trailing over the smooth scars across Emily's back before falling to Remiel's finger's, stained red before he nods at Robert. "Yeah, I can."

He's tired of making excuses. They only end up hurting people he cares about.

***

Dean's not trying to eavesdrop as he walks slowly back and forth behind the couch, rocking the fussy Elle gently. Bobby's in the kitchen, making a phone call to Emily's mother. Elle had been restless since Remiel had been injured, fussy in a way Dean's never seen her and it's almost worrying. Dean thinks it's just that one baby tooth finally breaking through but it could be something else.

He hopes it's just a tooth, with the way she keeps putting the gold lion in her mouth. Dean's not sure he can deal with anything else today, and today has just barely started. They're so damn lucky she didn't shift. She came close but she didn't shift. Not that it probably matters, the demons know where to find them, and he can't... he can't think about that right now.

So he's pretending that he's really trying not to eavesdrop when he hears Bobby's voice, soft and tired, but gentle.

"Diane, I'm sorry to be calling so early... no... no Diane, Emmy's alive. She's safe and she's here..." There's almost a sense of relief in Bobby's voice.

Dean strokes his hand down Elle's back. Her fussing has quieted somewhat and Dean's wondering about that woman on the other end of the phone. That's why he was... is a hunter. To help people, to save the innocents from all the things that go bump in the night and let others sleep in their beds without ever knowing about those things. Then it got complicated. And this is complicated because that woman's... Diane's daughter isn't going to be able to go home anytime soon.

And Dean's suddenly wondering what that would be like, for Elle to go missing, to have something happen to his baby girl. He cups his hand over the back of her head and kisses her forehead.

"Yeah, I'll make sure she calls you as soon as she feels up to it. No... no, it wasn't drugs. Diane, I know..." Affection and sorrow lace Bobby's voice. He'd said he knew the family, Dean wonders how close. He's never heard... no he has heard Bobby sound like that. He remembers hearing his Dad and Bobby talking one night and Bobby talking about his wife.

"Aaron coming up here might not be the best thing. I don't think she could handle her big brother right now. I don't know the full story yet and she's sleeping. She's lost a bit of weight but she's fine otherwise." Bobby doesn't say physically but the word hangs there anyways.

There are symbols carved into Emily's flesh and bone, there is Remiel's _name_ , and she was ridden by a demon for months. She held a Horseman's blade in her hand. Dean thinks it'll be a miracle if she wakes up sane. But he hopes she does. For Bobby's sake. For the woman on the phone's sake. For the haunted look in Barachiel's eyes when he looked at Emily after Remiel's slurred words in their language.

Elle fusses softly against Dean's shoulder, her eyelids drooping and her lion tucked against her chest. He rocks her gently. He and Cas need to talk. They need to plan a way to keep her safe, even if it means separating if things get really bad. God, he'd say that magic word to Michael to keep her safe. To keep Cas safe.

"Don't give me the credit for finding her, she showed up on her own. I wish I could have found her for you months ago." Bobby sounds pained, regretful. Dean feels a fresh stab of guilt about Bobby's legs, even healed as they are now.

"Yeah, I know sweetheart. You too."

Dean hears Bobby sit down heavily in one of the kitchen chairs and quietly, he carries Elle back up stairs. Bobby doesn't need to know he heard any of that, and if he does know they can keep the illusion that no one did.

By the time Dean reaches his room, Elle's fully asleep, on his shoulder. He knows he should have put her in her crib, but since finding out about Sam's "dream", the thought of Lucifer standing over his baby girl makes Dean want to keep her close. He finds Cas sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes distant, lost in thought. Cas' trench coat, tie, and jacket are lying across a chair, and his shirt is mostly unbuttoned. He looks... way too disheveled for Cas, and Dean gets a horrifying double vision of that future Cas laid over his. For just a moment he wonders if that Cas and Dean had an Elle, and if losing her is what broke them more than the end of the world ever could.

He quickly shakes the idea away, and fully enters the room closing the door behind him. Cas doesn't look up. He isn't entirely sure what happened between Cas and Barach downstairs. Sometimes he hates the way they talk in angel, like he isn't there. But he knows that sometimes Cas doesn't want to bring up angel business around him. That maybe he might have valid reasons for it. Whatever Barachiel hissed had sounded like bad blood and old wounds no matter what language they were speaking, and Dean really isn't sure if he's up for being in the middle of all that just yet.

"I think she's cutting a new tooth," Dean says, conversationally. "She's fine, fell asleep on my shoulder."

Cas looks up at that. "I'm glad," he starts to raise his hands as if to ask for Elle, then lowers them.

Dean represses a sigh and eases down on the bed beside him. "Here, my arms are getting tired," he shifts the sleeping baby, gold lion and all, into Cas' arms, then presses a kiss to Cas' throat.

"She doesn't seem unduly affect by today's events," Cas says softly, bending his head to kiss Elle's temple.

"Kids are resilient," Dean tells him, brushing his fingers over the back of Cas' neck. Cas relaxes slightly under his touch.

Cas is silent for a moment, cradling Elle to his chest and leaning slightly into Dean's hand. "Has the girl awakened?"

"No, not yet."

There's the slightest nod from Cas, and Dean really wishes he would just _talk_ to him. But it's not like Dean's the talkative type either.

"Do you want me to beat Barach up?" He asks instead, and waits for the wince and then the smile to come from Cas.

"I do not think it would be much of a fight," Cas confesses and leans against Dean, a warm and reassuring weight.

Dean reaches out and smooths Elle's messy hair then runs his fingers through Cas' before swallowing. He didn't want to bring this up but... "We need to talk."

Cas' tenses. "Dean..."

He nuzzles the angel's throat in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. "We've got to have a plan. Worst case scenario sorta thing."

"No," it's a soft protest, and Cas closes his eyes.

"Yes," Dean counters. "If things get bad, we've got to have a plan to protect her. Even if it means separating. Even if it means me saying..." he trails off.

"No," Cas snaps. He clutches Elle tighter. She makes a soft, sleepy complaint which makes him ease his grip slightly. "I will protect you both." A bare bit of power rides his voice, and Dean remembers dark wings and a creature, powerful and frightening.

Dean leans closer, resting his forehead against the side of his head. "I know you'll try. But she's... we gotta put her first. You'd be able to protect her better, you'd be able to hide her better."

"I will not leave you," Cas hissed and Dean winces as more of his true voice intermixes with his human one. "You are my _mate_ and I will never abandon you."

"Don't mean now. Worst case scenario, when... if things get really bad," Dean feels the tremor that runs through Cas. "You know I'm right. Gabriel said that... Lucifer... if he's not gone, he might help protect Elle if it comes to that. You're his brother."

There's a small shake of the angel's head. "You'd be more able to hide. There are those that would take more pity on a mortal and his child than on a son of Yahweh," he touches the gold lion Elle cuddles almost reverently.

"Pagan gods," Dean mutters. "I don't think they'd be too happy to help someone that's taken out some of their kind."

Elle shifts in Cas' arms, nuzzling closer into her father's chest. Dean's heart clenches, and for the first time he feels a real sympathy for his father and his protectiveness of Sammy.

"Not all demigod's are like the ones you have faced. Some are like the one that gave her to us. They will not turn away a mortal seeking to protect his child, especially a female child. I..." Cas voice breaks slightly. "I do not wish to speak of this now. Let it keep until later. Please."

Dean cups the side of Cas' face and turns it towards him. He kisses him softly, chastely. "Okay."

Cas kisses him again, more fiercely more hungrily. "We should bring Elle's crib to our room."

"Oh?" Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Yes," Cas breathes, and nips Dean's lips. "So we can keep her close and still know each other."

Dean watches Cas' eyes darken, possessive, hungry, a spark of light in the center of his pupils. Dean grins. "I love it when you talk all archaic, like that."

Elle, of course, picks that moment to wake up. "Bottle?" she asks tugging at Cas' shirt as she squirms into a sitting position. Then, still half asleep with her hair sticking up, demands, "Daddy, where Bear-Bear?"

He can't help but laugh at Cas' fond but exasperated sigh. "I'll get the bottle, you stay up here and play with her," Dean kisses Cas chastely and climbs to his feet. Elle crawls from Cas' lap into the space Dean just left, babbling to Cas in angelic.

Dean stands by the door for a moment and thinks Cas' smile is the most beautiful thing in the world outside of Elle.

***

Castiel runs his hand over Elle's back as she crawls up to the head of the bed towards the bear. She clutches her lion in her hand which slightly impedes her, but it makes Castiel smile again as she wriggles across the bed. She pulls the bear into her arms, touching the lion's nose to the bear's and babbles to them in a mixture of English, angelic, and pure nonsense.

He fights the urge to correct some of her incorrect phrasing. Dean had told him that babies, even those as smart as their baby girl, were still learning how to put their words together. He watches as Elle lifts the bear in the air as if it was flying. "Can Bear-Bear fly?" she asks in angelic.

Castiel shifts further up the bed. "No, he can't. You need wings to fly," he tells her in the same language. "Like birds."

"And us?" she asks peering up at him.

He smiles again, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "And us," Dean's necklace hangs down from his shirt.

"We fly soon?" Elle's eyes are focusing on the pendant.

Castiel's smile falters slightly. Oh, how he wishes to take her flying again, but it's too dangerous now. Lucifer is missing, Zachariah is commanding angels and demons, and Remiel was almost killed on their doorstep. And Barachiel... his brother's words still haunt him, tear at him. He would never forget Dean. He could never forget his mate.

_Never_.

Elle reaches up and touches the pendant curiously. "Warm," she says in English. She abandons the bear and lion, and hauls herself up using his shoulder for leverage and balance. Her tiny legs hold her unsteadily. She reaches for the pendant again, and Castiel has the sudden urge to keep it from her.

Castiel catches the pendant, wraps his hand around it, something protective flares in him at her declaration that it was _warm_.

"Your daddy gave it to me," he tells her softly. "It has power in it that I hoped would find my Father," he speaks to her in angelic, English feeling suddenly too clumsy for what he wishes to impart. The power behind his Father's name that only conveys in his... their tongue.

Elle tilted her head to the side, looking at him with uncanny blue eyes. Castiel has the sudden revelation of why humans find his eyes so unsettling at times... or in Dean's case appealing. "Father?" she asks, sounding curious, confused.

It's not the word for father he'd taught her Castiel realizes. Has he not taught her _Iad_ , _Oiad_ , or _Iadpil_? "My Father," he tells her. "Your GrandFather," the word grandfather is clumsy as there is no true word for it. _Drilpi Iad_ is the best he can do.

She repeats the word back, her brow wrinkling slightly. She points at him. "Not Father, but daddy?" she asks.

Castiel nods. "Yes,"

"What are you two being so serious about?" Dean asks, stepping back into the room carrying a bottle.

"Daddy!" Elle lets go of Castiel's shirt to try and walk towards Dean, but winds up falling on her bottom. Castiel is worried for a split second but Elle just giggles.

Dean laughs. "Don't worry, baby girl, you'll get there." He plops down on the bed on the other side of her and passes her the bottle.

She takes it and starts to drink it hungrily. Castiel runs a hand over her hair.

"So what were you two talking about?" Dean asks.

He hesitates for a moment. "Nothing important. I had neglected to teach her the difference between father and... Father."

Dean reaches out and brushes his hand across Castiel's jaw, then touches the pendant. "Hey, you'll find him."

"No, I will not. My search for Him is less important than being here with you and Elle," Castiel says firmly. It's the truth. Though now that he's a father he cannot understand why his Father would have abandoned His children.

His mate smiles slightly. "I should feel bad about being happy about that."

Castiel brushes his fingers across Dean's wrist. "Never do. My place is and should have been with you, always."

Dean dips his head slightly. "Sammy's been acting weird since Gabriel left," he says changing the subject. Castiel isn't surprised. Dean has never liked to talk about feelings. "I swear he's fretting or something."

For a moment Castiel debates saying anything. It was Sam and Gabriel's right to inform the family of any intentions, but... "I believe our brothers have grown... close."

"Close," Dean echos, with a glance that lets Castiel know that Dean knows exactly how 'close'.

He nods with a slight frown, hoping this won't cause more undue trouble. "You don't deeply dislike my brother do you?"

Dean looks torn for a moment, as if he is making a decision of a grand magnitude, before he sighs then shakes his head. "No, he still bugs the shit outta me, but I don't hate him or anything. And he... he's helped Sam. He healed Bobby," Dean looks down at their fledgling, drinking her bottle as if she hadn't another worry in the world. Trusting her fathers to keep the nest and her safe. "And you love him. If he and Sam... if he and Sam... well, I'll deal with it."

Castiel leans across the small gap and brushes his lips against Dean's. "Thank you."

"I want my family to be happy," Dean says softly. "All of it."

Castiel cannot agree more.

***

Sam tries not to worry when Gabriel and Anna are gone for most of the day and then into the evening. He tries to keep busy, helping Dean move the crib up to his room and he tries not to think that it's because Dean doesn't trust him. He goes over his books, his notes, tries to work out the modifications the spell he showed Gabriel would need. He tries to track down all the protection sigils, wards, symbols, and runes he can find. He reads until his eyes are dry and he can't focus on the words.

He thinks about laying down, but when he glances at his bed he remembers Gabriel curled against him, keeping his dreams safe. So instead, Sam trundles down the stairs into the kitchen and scavenges the fridge for something to make for dinner. He finds some frost bitten beef in the freezer and some sorry looking frozen carrots. The pantry reveals a few cans of beef broth, some basic spices, he tries not to think about how Bobby used to have more stuff on hand. Or about the chili he used to make them, which made the chili from the other night seem pale in comparison. But what he finds is enough to make beef stew.

The smell brings everyone down and Castiel takes a bowl out to Barachiel and Remiel in the barn. Sam isn't sure why because angels don't need to eat... but then Barachiel, like Gabriel, seems to enjoy eating.

When Anna and Gabriel finally return about an hour after dinner, Anna's the only one that enters the house. From the way she looks at Emily, still asleep or unconscious on the couch, Sam figures she stopped in the barn first. She talks to Castiel in their language for several minutes, then presses a kiss to Elle's forehead. She snags two beers from the fridge and a bowl of stew before she heads towards the stairs down to the panic room.

Sam looks out towards the yard, through one of the windows to see Gabriel standing, looking up at the moon, looking lost in thought. He makes a move towards the door only to be stopped by Anna's hand on his arm. She's set the beers down on one of Bobby's bookshelves.

"Give him some time alone," Anna tells him softly. Her eyes are slightly sad. "He's not... up for company. Things didn't go well."

He gets the feeling that she's censoring herself and he almost resents it. He doesn't need to be protected from the truth. "How bad?" he asks, because this is important and he doesn't need to be out of the loop because the angels are being closed lipped.

Anna bites her bottom lip and it's such a human gesture. She lives in her skin more than any of them, even Barachiel and Gabriel. She understands more than any of the angels what it is to be human. "Very bad. There's no sign of Lucifer. Not in any of the towns we passed through and no one could remember anything, but..." she paused then shakes her head. "Gabriel thinks Michael's involved with whatever happened. He won't say it, but the traces are there and he forgets I was a garrison leader."

"Shit," Sam breathes out. Because this changes everything. It changes the battlefield. It changes the enemy. It means that Zachariah is really running the whole show angels and demons alike and... shit. Just shit.

"Yeah," Anna agrees. "We tried to find some allies among the demi-gods, but let's just say we were lucky not to be attacked on sight by some of them. Even some of Gabriel's "friends" wanted no part of it. As long as the world isn't destroyed they don't give a shit. They'll protect their followers but they won't help us fight."

He scrubs his hand over his face, exhaustion settling into his bones. "Any chance of other angels coming to our side?"

There's long silence. "No. Some might not wish to aid Zachariah but they won't move against him. They believe he speaks the will of our Father. Sheep, all of them. Can't stand to think for themselves anymore. Forgot they knew how," she closes her eyes for a moment. "It didn't used to be like this Sam. We were all happy, for the most part."

Sam feels a wave of guilt for his whole race. "Then we came."

Anna shakes her head firmly. "We... you were on Earth for a while before things fell apart. It wasn't until after the flood. Morningstar became so... angry. So filled with hatred. He'd never liked humans or how Father adored them, but he held his tongue. If he didn't love them he didn't tell Father, he didn't openly disobey," she shrugs her shoulders and makes a sound almost like a laugh, "So damn stupid, all of it. But Father didn't forgive easily back then. Father didn't give mercy easily. And Michael... Michael was so very obedient."

She does laugh then. "Things were simpler when I was just Anna Milton. I miss that, but I have Crowley back and I can't resent that," she looks at Sam and gives him a small smile. There's a story there, with Crowley, but Sam knows this isn't the time to ask. "Sorry, you didn't need me unloading on you like that."

"Hey, it's okay. I understand needing to just talk," he does, and he's glad she trusts him, tainted blood and all. "Does everyone else know about Lucifer and the pagan gods?"

Anna nods. "We talked to Barachiel and Remiel before I came in, and Castiel will speak with Dean. Gabriel probably would have wanted to talk to you but..." she glances out the front window towards Gabriel. "Just give him some time alone. He's... maybe if you two were... he'll come in when he's ready."

Sam reads between the lines. If he and Gabriel were mated, she wouldn't fear Gabriel hurting him because he was in a mood. Sam just nods. "Yeah, okay."

She gives him a small smile and changes the subject. "How is... how did he hold up?" she asks looking towards the basement stairs.

"He called me a moron a few times when I went to check on him, then said the accommodations were horrible and he wouldn't be recommending Hotel Winchester to his friends," Sam tells her.

Anna laughs, some of the lines of worry smoothing from her face. "He's feeling better then," she shakes her head, picks up the beers again, and then heads down the steps. Sam wonders for a moment if he should go down and make sure the door locks behind her, but decides to let someone _else_ worry if they trust Crowley fully or not. He's also sure that Crowley's worry for Anna had been genuine, he hadn't told Anna that, how the demon obviously worried for her. He figures Anna already knows.

Sam stalls going to sleep as long as he can before heading up the stairs. There's nothing really to do but watch Emily and that's sort of creepy. It's too early to sleep, it's only just nine but it had been a late night and a even earlier morning. He hears sounds, low and strained, coming from Dean's room, and he's pretty sure he knows what they're doing in there. He shuts the door of his bedroom behind him and stares at his bed for a long moment. "Jesus, Sam. You've slept alone before," he growls out loud to himself.

He kicks off his boots and peels off his pants. A quick rummage through his bag comes up with sweat pants that don't smell _that_ bad - and shit, when was the last time they'd done laundry? The sheets feel too cool against his skin as he slides in. He picks up a book off the nightstand and when did a copy of Alice In Wonderland show up there?

Reading takes up an hour before he finally puts the book aside and flicks off the light.

But he doesn't - can't - sleep.

The hours slide by as he lays there, staring at the green LED numbers of the alarm clock, watching as they count off the minutes and hours. He gives up around one and scrubs his hand over his face. Somehow he knows Gabriel is still out in the junkyard. Sam doesn't like it. Gabriel belongs curled up beside him and Sam wonders when he started thinking of Gabriel as his. When had his cautious like and affection, the careful dance of touches and bodies curled together to sleep but nothing more, turned into... _this_?

Sam wonders if this has been building since he first met the Trickster angel all those years ago and was taken in by his smile.

Then he pushes his feet into his boots, pulls on a t-shirt, and heads down the stairs. The first thing he notices is that Emily's not on the couch and the kitchen lights are on. Curiously and cautiously, he enters the kitchen only to find Bobby sitting at the kitchen table watching the very awake Emily. Death's blade rests on the kitchen table between the salt and pepper shakers. The young woman seems to be... cooking? Baking?

"Bobby?" he asks, as she carefully presses dough into a pie dish. There's a can of blueberries out on the counter. Okay, she's baking, and yeah, he's seen stranger things.

Bobby looks up and gives him a tired but genuine smile. "She woke up about an hour ago, and wanted two things. A shower and to bake," he shakes his head. "She ran a bakery in town before she disappeared."

"Excuse me for not wanting to think right now, and don't talk about me like I'm deaf, Uncle Bobby," Emily snaps, her back a tight line of tension.

But Sam knows all about throwing yourself into familiar things when you can't deal with something. He does raise his eyebrow at Bobby who doesn't even favor him with a look. So he looks back at Emily. "Mind if I heat up the pot of stew on the stove?"

"Go ahead, I don't need the stove top," she turns her head slightly and theres a keen intelligence in her green eyes. "There aren't any fresh apples." There's a note to her voice like she's already taken Bobby to task for the lack of fresh fruit in the house.

So Sam turns the burner on to heat the stew back up, and watches her.

"Do you like pie?" she asks, like she can't take him just looking at her and has to talk.

Sam smiles slightly. "Yeah, but my brother's obsessed with it. Careful or he might propose marriage to you, when he finds out you run a bakery."

It gets a small strained laugh out of her, which was what he was going for. "You must be Sam."

"Yeah, but how did you know that?" he glances back at Bobby.

"I told her about you two. Figured she needs to know who all was in the house," Bobby tells him with a shrug.

"The height also tipped me off," Emily's lips form a thin line. "I knew before... bits from that... thing's... thoughts."

Sam's not sure what to say to that. The angels proclaimed her demon free and not everyone remembers details from when they were being ridden. She goes back to concentrating on the pie and Sam dishes up a bowl of stew. He snags a beer from the fridge. He'd bring out chocolate if he knew where to find anything.

He leaves Bobby and Emily in the kitchen and heads out into the darkened yard. He doesn't see Gabriel anywhere but after a bit of straining to see in the dark, he catches sight of light coming from an old VW van. It's seats are sitting beside it and Sam figures that's a pretty clear sign that Gabriel's in there.

It takes a bit of juggling to open the van's side door without dropping anything, but he manages. He doesn't get the reception he'd expected though.

A low growl comes from inside the van, and an instinctive, primitive part of Sam's brain screams _danger_ , _run_ , _predator_. But it's Gabriel and for all the reasons Sam should have to be wary, to fear this Archangel, this Trickster, he holds his ground.

Sam does more than that. He moves closer, dips his head just inside the van. "Gabriel? It's just Sam," there's a single light in the roof of the van that casts a dim light into the van's interior. "I brought you some food and beer."

He gets another low growl in response but Gabriel moves into Sam's view. His pupils are almost pure white light, that hurts to look at directly.

"It's dangerous to come into an Archangel's nest uninvited," Gabriel says. He's shirtless, and it makes Sam's mouth dry.

"Am I invited?" Sam asks and the smile comes easier that it should have.

Gabriel blinks and in the space of that quick movement, the white light of his pupils become nothing more than pin pricks in the center. The Archangel takes a shaky, unnecessary breath. "You're always invited, Sam," Gabriel says like he maybe feels guilty for making Sam think he wasn't.

Sam climbs into the van, ducking slightly due to his height. The floor of the van is padded with blankets, but Sam would almost swear there were soft mats under them. There are pillows lined around the walls of the van. "Here," he passes over the bowl and the beer, brushing his fingers against Gabriel's wrist as he does so.

Some of the tension seems to leech out of Gabriel. "Thanks." He takes a small taste of the stew, then eats a bigger spoonful.

"I wanted to," Sam says softly, making himself comfortable against the wall but within touching distance of Gabriel. "I was worried. You didn't come into the house," he wants to say _you didn't come to bed_ but he's not sure if he's allowed, or if he's assuming too much.

Gabriel sets the bowl aside and takes a long swallow of beer, drinking almost half of it in one go. "I..." he closes his eyes.

Sam slides closer, brushing his fingers against the back of Gabriel's neck, then pushes them higher into sinfully soft hair. "You've been there when I needed you," Sam tells him. He doesn't want to make this a 'let's talk about our feelings' thing, but he thinks he needs to tell Gabriel this. That Gabriel _needs_ to know this. "I want to be there for you."

"Sam," It's barely a whisper and it's barely left his lips when he turns his head towards Sam. He presses his face into the long curve of Sam's neck and breathes in deeply. "This is the worst time to do this. To want this," he brings his own hand up, over Sam's back so it rests against the base of Sam's neck.

The van is silent for a long moment as they hold onto each other in the barest of ways. Then Sam shifts again; wraps an arm around Gabriel and pulls him closer. He's almost surprised when Gabriel goes willingly. But it's nothing like the surprise he still feels that an archangel would want someone so tainted. "We might not have another chance."

"Haven't been courting that long, Sammy," Gabriel tells him with a sigh, like he regrets that.

He smiles slightly into Gabriel's hair. "Does trapping you in a circle of holy fire count as courting?"

That gets him a small huff of laughter against his skin. "You've got a fucked up sense of courting then, Winchester," When he looks up his eyes are hazel with a bit of that old amusement in them.

Sam shrugs. "Well, I did sleep with a demon," the side of his mouth curves up slightly, and he drags his fingers idly down Gabriel's spine.

Gabriel's reaction is unexpected. He gasps, back arching into Sam's touch. "Sam," he groans, and Sam sees him thinking, warring with something inside before surging forward and sealing his mouth over Sam's.

He digs his fingers in slightly without meaning to, and Gabriel growls against his mouth. So Sam does it again, kissing the angel fiercely, teeth scraping against his. It's messy and rough and Sam's mouth feels slick and wrecked by the time they pull apart.

Gabriel's mouth is just as slick, but Sam sees with a sense of disappointment that his mouth isn't bruised or even red. God, he wants to leave some sort of mark to show he's been there. "Gabriel," Sam breathes, his fingers still pressed against Gabriel's spine. He presses back, arches into Sam's fingers, moving his back like Sam wants to move his hips.

It takes a moment for it to dawn on Sam why. Wings. He's pressing his fingers, digging them in, where the base of Gabriel's wings would be. Sam flattens his hands and pulls Gabriel towards him. Gabriel lets himself be guided, pulled, into Sam's lap. He straddles Sam's legs, and nips at Sam's chin then his lips. The pinpricks of light in Gabriel's eyes have grown slightly.

"Samuel," Gabriel growls low in his throat. The sound sends a shiver up Sam's back. He nips Sam's lips again then runs his tongue soothingly over the small hurt. "Sam. We shouldn't do this."

Sam drags one hand up Gabriel's back then back down, fingers slipping just under the waistband of his jeans. His lips curve up as he finds no underwear. "I want to," he can feel Gabriel's erection pushing against his own through two layers of jeans. "And so do you."

One of Gabriel's hands spans Sam's hip, the other traces circles and runes into his throat. Sam shivers under his touch, and tips his head back to give Gabriel more of a canvas. "You have no idea what I want to do to you," his teeth skim just under Sam's jaw, fingers still painting his throat with sigils, runes and words that Sam can't catch.

"I want it," Sam gasps. He does, ever since the idea became clear to him. Ever since he realized that yes, _he_ could have _this_. His fingers dig into the place between Gabriel's shoulder blades again, almost reflexively.

Gabriel's hips rock forward at Sam's touch and words. " _Sam_."

Sam hips jerk upwards and his hands fly to Gabriel's waist. He's straining against the zipper of his jeans. Thunder rolls in the distance and the air seems to grow more humid by the second. He leans back, taking his hands from Gabriel's skin. Sam hooks his fingers under his t-shirt and drags it off, throwing it to the side. Then he presses back close, the bare skin of his chest to Gabriel's.

"I want it," Sam growls against Gabriel's mouth. "I want you. I want this."

He gets a hand tangled in his hair and Gabriel's mouth devours his. His hands run down Gabriel's back, sliding into the gap between his waistband and his skin. Gabriel can't seem to keep his hands off Sam's skin. They run across his back tracing things into his skin as Gabriel had done with his neck, Gabriel's fingers digging in between his shoulder blades as if Sam has wings. Those clever hands skim along the top of his jeans, then over Sam's trembling stomach and up over his chest, all the time tracing sigils, runes and letters into Sam's skin.

"I hurt you. I _tortured_ you," Gabriel says, biting Sam's lips. He drags his blunt nails across Sam's heart. The thunder is closer, clashing in the sky and lightning illuminates the night. "You should hate me."

Sam should, by all rights, hate Gabriel. For all that he's done, not only to Dean and him, but to so many others. But he doesn't and part of him never really did. The part of him that liked the curve of that janitor's smile, the part of him that knew what lesson was trying to be taught, the part of him that felt sadness for the angel in the ring of fire. Gabriel is sharp edged, dangerous, cruel, with a twisted sense of humor and justice, but he's also loyal, kind, warm, protective of his family, and so loving that it leaves him broken. Sam wants both parts; the Trickster and the Archangel.

He wants this connection. He wants Gabriel in his bed for all his days. He wants the soft touches and stories under the stars. He wants Gabriel so much that his heart hurts with it.

Words feel too clumsy for all that's flying through his head. Sam tips his head back again, a sign of trust, of submission. Gabriel groans as if he'd heard everything Sam had been thinking. He kisses Sam's throat, hands cupping Sam's head, curving around the back of his skull. Then he's pulling Sam forward capturing his mouth in an almost chaste kiss.

Draping his long arms over Gabriel's shoulders, Sam rocks his hips upwards. Gabriel moves his hips with the motion, the kiss turning messy but not hard. "Clothes," Sam gets out, his voice ragged. He pushes his upwards again, relishing in the low moan that causes. "Jeans off."

"Yes," Gabriel agrees, barely lifting his mouth from Sam's enough to speak. He pushes Sam down onto the cushioned and blanket covered floor. Gabriel's still straddling Sam's hips and smiles wickedly as he rocks against Sam.

Sam hands scrabble to Gabriel's waist, fingers pressing into the soft skin there, trying to leave a mark. "This isn't naked," Sam manages. His fingers are clumsy as he plays with the button and zipper of Gabriel's jeans.

Gabriel laughs as he rocks his hips again, then leans down to kiss Sam just before he snaps his fingers.

They're suddenly pressed skin to skin, cock against cock and Sam thinks he could come just from this. From the slow steady push of skin and against skin, and Gabriel's cock rubbing against his.

Thunder booms almost directly overhead, the skies opening up. The rain comes quickly and hard. It intrudes upon their nest, leaving Sam shivering as the cold drops hit his overheated skin. He flings out an arm as he arches into Gabriel and grabs a hold of the door pulling at it until it closes. Sam runs his hands over Gabriel's back, spreading the cool water across his almost burning skin.

"Clever boy," Gabriel leans down and licks water from Sam's neck and shoulder. "Another time I would take you out there." The rolls of his hips leaves no doubts of what Gabriel means.

Sam's fingers tighten at the thought of that, of how much he suddenly wants that. To be on his hands and knees in the mud, or on his back, with the rain pounding down on them. "Next time," he promises. He leans up as Gabriel's mouth leaves his skin, presses his mouth to Gabriel's in a demand for a kiss.

Gabriel's smile is smoldering and his eyes blown. His gaze is full of lust and possessiveness and so many things that Sam wants to name but doesn't dare. Gabriel moves from his position straddling Sam's hips and settles between them before Sam can protest. Sam spreads his legs to give the smaller man more room, bends his knees and thrusts upwards just to see what it feels like.

There's a gasp that could be words from Gabriel and he presses chest to chest so he can kiss Sam, wreck his mouth even more. Sam's hands drag up over Gabriel's back across the spot he know will get a reaction. Gabriel thrusts against him, fingers digging into Sam's hips. He's going to have bruises in the morning and Sam doesn't care. Sam _wants_ them. "I've never..." Sam's breath stutters in his throat. He wants this but there's a thread of uncertainty in his head. He's never done this before with well... He's never felt like this either not since Jess. He takes a deep breath. "Do you want to...?" Ugh, he's a grown man, he should be able to say it.

Gabriel's kiss is gentle. "Sam," he sighs into Sam's mouth. "Next time, in a bed where I can spread you out. Take my time."

"But..." Sam flattens his hands against Gabriel's back.

"Fuck me, Sam," Gabriel tells him nuzzling his ear, rolling his hips against Sam. "I want you in me. Think you can do that?"

Sam groans. "You keep doing that with your hips and I won't be able to."

Gabriel laughs into his skin, and Sam can't help but grin and laugh himself. It's as if everything had slowed down, softened, deepened. He's being kissed again before he finishes laughing, and somehow it turns into almost a wrestling match. They kiss and nip and touch every inch of skin they can. They breathe each others air and capture each others moans when their cocks brush each other or any skin that gives a bit of friction.

He's not sure when it happens, but he's between Gabriel's legs kissing him like he can draw the grace from him and taste some of it. Sam's cock drags across Gabriel's entrance and the hands Gabriel has on his back and neck tighten. Sam leans in to kiss him again, he swears he tastes something different with each kiss and it's addictive, leaves him craving _more, more, more_ and _Gabriel_.

Sam pulls his mouth away from Gabriel's and drags in air, trying to pull his mind back together. A difficult feat with the way Gabriel's moving under him.

Gabriel tilts his hips up. "Come on, Sammy-boy," he grins up at him but his eyes are blown and there's something wild and old in his expression, and it should be wrong to hear that nick name coming from Gabriel _now_ but somehow it's different, it means something else.

"Don't we need-"

Gabriel bites the words off Sam's lips. "No. Perks of the job. You can't hurt me."

He trusts Gabriel, he does, but Sam still slips his fingers between them. He runs a fingertip over Gabriel's entrance and finds him slick and open. Biting back a moan, Sam can't help but press inside, just a little.

Gabriel's head falls back against the blankets, and his fingers dig into Sam's skin almost to the point of pain. His hips roll forward trying to get Sam deeper. " _Sam_."

Sam forces back his own arousal, the instinct to _take_. He wants Gabriel just as desperate, just as wrecked as Sam already is and will be. A second finger pushes inside next to the first, and Gabriel's moan rattles the windows of the van. Outside the thunder rolls, so loud it's almost like the storm is holding itself above the scrapyard. The rain sounds like nails hitting the roof.

He moves his fingers in and out, relishes the way Gabriel reacts, the way he moves. Finds a speed that makes Gabriel clutch him hard again, one hand presses at his back looking for wings that aren't there. Sam can't take his own teasing anymore and draws his fingers out. He finds Gabriel's mouth again and presses his legs back further, wider to accommodate him.

"Sam," Gabriel gasps, holding him still with the hand on his neck. Sam almost whimpers because _fuck_ he's going to come before they even get started. "This isn't just... you know this is more than sex. I don't think I can make this just sex. This is _forever_."

Gabriel's trembling under Sam's body and Sam nods. "Yeah, I know. I don't..." he closes his eyes against the twisting heat in his stomach that threatens to eat him alive. "I don't just... there's got to be feeling... has to be more..."

His head is tugged down and Gabriel's kiss is all possessive heat. "Forever, Samuel," Gabriel says again as if Sam's going to change his mind.

"Forever sounds good," Sam tells him raggedly and shifts his hips. Starts to push into Gabriel and the hot, slick clasp of his inner muscles.

The sound Gabriel makes is nowhere near human and one of the windows cracks. The light above them flickers then dies, leaving them in darkness. Lightning illuminates them through the windows, each bright flash painting shadows across their skin as they move together. Sam doesn't know why his ears aren't bleeding.

It's good, so good. It's like... it's like it was with Jess... it's not just pleasure, it's connection, it's a promise.

Sam's rolling thrusts are met by Gabriel, who shoves back like it's all he knows how to do. He pants Sam's name like it's a benediction. There are other words, some he recognizes as his name, others slip from his grasp, Latin, Greek, bits of Enochian. Sam responds with Gabriel's name, "Gabriel." "Gabriyel." "Gabrielus." "Gabriēl.". He promises forever, promises his heart, his soul, and Gabriel whispers the promises back into his mouth.

Gabriel hooks a leg around Sam's, palms his back. "More, faster," he demands.

He bites, then kisses Gabriel's arm where he can reach it. Wraps his hand around Gabriel's cock and jacks him in time with his own thrusts. Sam's so close he can taste it, feel it build at the base of his spine, every thrust and touch spiraling him closer. "Want to see you," he pants, thrusting hard.

That earns him a full body shudder and sharp cry that rattles everything, making the metal around them vibrate. The sound makes Sam's ears ache just a little, but God it sounds beautiful. Gabriel shakes his head back and forth, hair sticking to his skin. "Can't... I'd... can't control my grace."

Sam digs his fingers into Gabriel's hips. "Give it to me," he orders, begs. He flattens himself against Gabriel, kissing him long and filthy. Rolls his hips but doesn't withdraw.

The light in Gabriel's eyes expands and there's no color left, almost nothing but that light. Gabriel arches up under him. "Close your..." The hand on his neck pushes Sam's face against Gabriel's shoulder. Then light bursts, spills forth inside the confines of the van. Sam barely closes his eyes in time but he knows the light's still there, can feel it seep into his skin, and Gabriel's coming between them, his body squeezing Sam.

There's something hot, searing and perfect against the back of his neck, and Sam's coming. His cry is muffled into Gabriel's skin and he clings, holds on as he shudders and shakes through his climax. Color bursts behind his eyelids and he can see wings like... like nothing else and light... Sam's vision goes black and he collapses against Gabriel's chest.

When he comes back to himself, he's still lying on Gabriel. He feels... wrecked, drained, but it's good and he's smiling before he opens his eyes. The rain is a soft pitter-patter on the metal roof now. Gabriel's fingers are in his hair, tracing patterns across his back. He tenses slightly when he realizes Sam's awake.

The back of his neck feels raw, almost burnt, but it doesn't hurt like it should. It just sort of aches. Sam pushes himself up slightly, and looks into slightly anxious hazel eyes. "Forever right?" Sam smiles, his voice sounds rough.

A grin spreads across Gabriel's face, honest and true. He brushes his fingers against the back of Sam's neck, against the mark. "Yeah, forever sounds good."

***

Gabriel is curled up behind Sam, idly nosing and kissing the edges of the mark he'd left while listening to the last of the rain trail off. The inside of the van is warm, the overhead light fixed now, and they'd ended up wrapped in the blankets he'd conjured.

"You know," Sam says conversationally, his voice wonderfully wrecked. "Dean can at least hide his."

Gabriel makes a low noise in his throat, maybe he'd thought about that before he made it, maybe he didn't _want_ Sam to hide it. He doesn't dignify that with an answer, he just licks the edge of his mark, _his_ mark, and grins when Sam rolls over to kiss him. He's just debating if anyone heard them and if they could go again, when there's the flapping hush of a bird landing and then a shrill laughing voice.

"Ho-lee shit, you have got to be kidding me."

Gabriel winces as Sam's head snaps up to look at a raven that is perched in one of the shattered side windows of the van and making decidedly un-birdlike noises, like the wolf whistle she makes after she tilts her head and looks Sam up and down.

"That is a sexy beast, Gabe! Look at those abs!"

Gabriel just groans and glares. This is pretty much right on the list of the last things he needs right now. "Raven, what the hell?"

"Don't you 'what the hell' me. You were the one banging on my door at some godawful hour. At least that's what Seagull told me. I was out. People to do. Things to see," Raven tilts her head from side to side. "So who's the hottie? Don't tell me that's the reason you came over? 'Cause if you got a new toy the gossips usually find out in a week or so and by then you've already broken up so it's not really news..."

It's been a long time since Gabriel has wished that he could just slink away into the dark somewhere and never come back. Sam isn't like that. He wants to desperately tell Sam that Raven is crazy and she has no idea what she's talking about and if she brings up that incident in Prague he's going to kill her. But when he opens his eyes Sam is grinning at him, trying to not laugh as Raven goes on about Gabriel's histrionic personality disorder, though she completely mangles the word and how usually his relationships that are based on hate sex only last about a month. Oh honestly...

"Hi," Sam cuts into Ravens tirade which is ballsy as hell and only makes Gabriel want him more, now, all the time, whenever he can get it. "I'm Sam Winchester, Gabriel's mate. I don't believe we've met."

The roll of joy and sheer possessiveness that smooths it's way up Gabriel's spine when Sam says _mate_ is only made better by the fact that Raven squeaks and snaps her beak a few times but ultimately falls silent. Sam Winchester has stricken Raven speechless. Gabriel is pretty sure that Sam wins a couple of bets that have been in limbo since the beginning of time. Sam looks at Gabriel far too sweetly amused as he tries to not laugh, he's more or less successful by the time Raven croaks out, "Mate!? What!?"

Gabriel sighs and rolls his eyes. "Can we talk outside Raven? Preferably with clothes?"

Raven rolls her eyes but hops out of the window with a flap and a thud.

He snaps himself back into a pair of jeans and yanks open the van door stopping to kiss Sam, "I will be right back. Hopefully when we come back she'll be civil... No, that's too much to ask. Put your pants on before she demands to see the goods."

Sam blushes as Gabriel jumps out into the mud, shutting the door behind him. Raven has assumed the form of a skinny girl in torn jeans with a hoodie sporting a picture of a shotgun and the words 'Zombie Repellent', her long dark hair chimes musically with all the trinkets woven into it as she shakes her head.

"Mate? Mate!? Are you out of your mind? You're tricking me aren't you? This is a trick," Raven straightens up as tall as she can with her arms crossed as Gabriel hooks his thumbs into his belt loops and waits and for the first time in decades, hides nothing.

It's like watching a penny drop off the Empire State building, small, sudden, and deadly. Raven's eyes widen and it takes her about three seconds to start flailing around the yard. "You can't be _serious_! You're never serious! About anything! Ever!"

"Raven..." She's practically shrieking now and she's gonna wake the whole house up if she keeps at it. Gabriel is debating if it's worth the bite he'll get if he tries to shut her up manually.

But then she goes silent, her hands tangling in her pockets. "This is an angel thing isn't it? This is the thing you said you weren't going to get involved in."

His mind flashes back half a year, with Lucifer rising and the whole world suddenly looking like it wasn't going to hold together, he remembers being drunk and laughing with Raven, with Seagull who was too stupid to know what an archangel was. He remembers telling her that it was all going to go to hell but not for them, not for the tricksters, because the tricksters could hide, they could slip behind the moon and know one would ever know. But that was before. Before fledglings and family and large hands and soft brown hair.

"Yeah," Gabriel nods. "It got complicated."

"You're an idiot to have thought it wouldn't," Raven snaps at him, twining her fingers in her hair as she crouches down in the mud. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I... I can't hide anymore. I have to fight this but there are people I'm trying to protect. People I want to keep out of this battle. Family and..."

"Your mate?" Raven tilts her head at the van and then closes her eyes. "Am I to believe that you are actually asking for... _help_?"

"I tried asking the others this morning. Anyone who I thought would..."

"Maui said you were lying! He said you always lie!" Raven is up again, pacing, and tugging at her hair. "Coyote is a liar! Loki is a liar!"

"Raven," Gabriel pleads. He's known her for ages. Long enough for her to laugh in his face at the angel thing. Hopefully long enough for her to know when he's telling the truth. Though she has a point, he hasn't come out and said anything like this since... Well, since he was still the messenger.

Raven hisses, a low dragging noise between her teeth. "Who did you talk to? Did you talk to Kali? She's angry about this, wants to kill the devil. You should have gone to her or... or... Baldur wouldn't have seen you... Susanoo would help or... Puck, maybe."

"Kali and I aren't getting along again and I didn't really want her to eat my eyes. I tried Odin but he pretty much told me to fuck off before I even got past the front gate. Everyone else either laughed, tried to kill me, or were drunk."

Raven rolls her eyes. "You expected any better?"

"Not really, but I had to try," Gabriel sighs. "Look, Lucifer's gone. Something's happened. The problem is another angel, one called Zachariah, who's controlling most of the show now. I think... I think he might just pick up where Lucifer left off. He'll destroy everything. Humans, angels, Gods, all in the name of some prophecy that was written ages ago."

"He'll kill you?" Raven asks, her fingers sliding out of her hair. "If he catches you?"

"I'm sure he'll be happy to. I sort of already tore him a new one," Gabriel confesses.

Raven laughs, a long cackling bird noise before she shakes her head. "You're a fool. You're _the_ fool. You're really going to fight this?"

"I have too many family members to hide all of them effectively," Gabriel says in a long suffering tone but Raven just smiles and walks up to him, bumps his shoulder with hers.

Her dark eyes glitter as she nods to herself. "Everyone said you weren't serious, that you're just playing, saying you're an archangel. That you've got agendas. You don't actually have any. You're telling the truth. That's the real trick."

Gabriel grins as she looks up at him. "It's a great trick."

She laughs again, and rolls her shoulders like she's flapping her wings. "I can't do a lot, can't hide anyone. It's not like the old days. If the shit hits the fan I can barely hide myself and Seagull."

"Just do what you can," Gabriel asks. He hadn't thought that would be too much to ask the other Gods but they had been more than happy to prove him wrong.

Raven grins suddenly and Gabriel swallows, he knows that grin. Hell, he's pretty sure he learned that grin from her. "So does anyone know you went and got married?"

"It uh... happened quite recently," Gabriel takes a step back as Raven's eyes light up and Gabriel is pretty sure that it's gonna be about thirty seconds before every single God this side of the Atlantic knows that he's mated, to a human, and everything he'd been trying to keep under wraps is going to burst at the seams. The real Loki is going to laugh his ass off.

It must show on his face because Raven's grin dials down a bit and she giggles. "Oh come on, I'm not gonna tell everyone," Which was good for now. He was already going to get teased by Barach, and he was pretty sure Dean was going to stab him at the very least. "I'll just tell Seagull."

Great.

He frowns and gives Raven the 'I will so fuck your shit up later for this' look which just makes her beam up at him with those fake puppy eyes she's so good at.

"You're an nuisance and an embarrassment," Gabriel deadpans. "I don't know why I'm friends with you."

"I'm the only one that puts up with you for more than a week," Raven says cheerfully as Sam opens the van door again, only now he's wearing clothes. Gabriel is simultaneously pleased and disappointed.

More pleased when Raven leers at Sam and shakes her head. "That boy is far too good looking for you, Gabriel."

"Yeah, well don't tell him that," Gabriel grins as Sam blushes and with a ripple of light and feathers Raven is a bird again, hop-flapping to the top of a junked car.

"I'll tell Kali you're being serious for once in your life and to not eat your eyes and I can probably go talk to Ogmios and Athena for you. I dunno about anyone else," she shakes her wings out as Gabriel nods.

"Well, I'll take what I can get at this point."

"See you later then, sweets," Raven stretches once before cocking her head. "Hey, do your kids know you're married?"

_Shit._

He's stuck between almost killing Raven as she flaps away, laughing her ass off, and trying to gauge the look in Sam's eyes. Finally her laughter fades and he's barefoot in the mud as Sam leans back and gives him a long look that pins him to the spot.

"I can completely explain," Gabriel starts.

"Uh huh," Sam nods, and Gabriel thinks that maybe Sam Winchester is the only human in the world that can look at him and be completely and utterly unimpressed. "It better be good or I'll leave you out here."

"Hey, you can't just come along and steal my nest!" He's almost sure there's a rule about that.

"Our nest," Sam corrects and slides back into the van.

Gabriel is out in the mud for a second longer than he should be because _ours_ is such a brilliant word that his brain misses a few steps and he has to catch up. Then he's lunging for the door before Sam can pull it shut on him.

"They're all grown! I was young! One's a horse!"

Sam stops and frowns, "A horse?"

"It's kind of complicated."

"I'll bet," Sam says with a frown.

"Also, technically I'm his mother, and before you ask; yes, he calls me 'mom' because he's an asshole and takes after me."

A beat passes before Sam breaks into laughter and lets Gabriel push him into the van and shut the door behind them. Sam is still laughing as Gabriel kisses him and gets him all muddy because he can, because this is his mate and it's his right to get him all dirty and make him laugh until there are tears in his eyes.

"You're joking," Sam pants.

"I really wish I was," Gabriel sing songs, dragging Sam's t-shirt over his head and proudly examining his handiwork of bruises and one very perfect bite mark on Sam's shoulder.

"Wait, wait," Sam tugs on his hair as he tries to lick a stripe down those abs. "You can't bring up something important, like you have kids, and then try and cover it up with sex."

"I can't?"

Sam shakes his head resolutely. "How many kids do you have? Grown or not."

"They are all grown. Are we counting the horse?"

"We're counting the horse."

"Three," that he knows of. That's he's one hundred percent sure are his.

"Three?" Sam asks and waits for Gabriel to nod.

"Three, can I take your pants off now?"

Sam rolls his eyes but grins and wriggles his hips. Gabriel knows the conversation isn't over. He has so much to tell Sam, so many parts of him that have been hidden away, but for now Sam will let it drop. He'll let Gabriel kiss him and taste his skin. He'll let him forget that there's a sort of kind of apocalypse on and all of his friends are jackasses. But he'll still remember all the important bits, all the things that Gabriel doesn't say. Sam won't let Gabriel hide and that's why he loves him.

***

Dean wakes up to the sound of laughter coming from downstairs. He frowns when he sees that the bed and crib are empty. Figures. Now he's stuck with two earlier risers. He's pulled himself into a pair of jeans and a henley, and he's putting on his boots when the laughter downstairs rises and then he can hear Elle's happy squeal. He smiles, and he's halfway down the hall when Barachiel's voice echoes up,

"He is lying! That is a complete lie! I did not _pass out_..."

What in the...? He spots Sam sprawled out on the couch laughing into his book as Gabriel rolls his eyes. He's sitting on the floor with Cas next to him and they've both got papers with sigils and tiny, tiny, writing spread out over their laps. Cas turns and beams at him when he comes down the stairs.

"Oh really? I distinctly remember finding you in a state of unconsciousness in an acacia tree."

Dean looks up at the unfamiliar voice and blinks for a second at Remiel, who is sitting at the kitchen table, looking far too put together for someone that was bleeding in said kitchen twenty-four hours before. The girl, Emily, is awake and at the stove making bacon, listening and adjusting the too big flannel shirt she's got on. Barachiel seems to be in the middle of some story while Bobby sits at the head of the kitchen table and hides a smile behind his coffee cup.

"No! Wait, hold on. I though it was a river then, not a tree," Barachiel frowns from where he's sitting on the counter, his attention split with trying to sneak half cooked food away from Emily and eating something that might be mayonnaise out of a jar.

"The river was after that debacle with that naiad you insulted. This was definitely later," Remiel says assuredly.

Dean blinks again because Elle is in her highchair right next to the fallen angel, and wasn't that a bad thing? Or were they starting to average out bad things and compared to the devil, Zachariah, and the entire apocalypse, Remiel fell lower on the chart than he'd thought. Well, they did have Crowley in their basement. Dean wants to say something, is about to, but then Cas is at his side, his hand sliding up Dean's shoulder before his fingers tangle in the short hair's at the base of Dean's neck.

"It is alright," he whispers. "He is on our side."

Dean watches as Elle shoves her lion off the edge of her highchair and Remiel catches it without breaking the amused glare he's giving Barachiel. She giggles when he places it back in front of her and starts the game all over again.

"Now, okay, back up..." Emily is saying as she smacks Barachiel's questing fingers out of the bacon pan. " _You_ sank Atlantis?"

"No," Barachiel says with a smug look. "I did not personally sink Atlantis."

"Indirectly, it was your neglect that sank the city. If you'd listened to Gabriel and done the mission you were given _instead_ of staying out with those Maenad's all night and then passing out..." Remiel starts.

"I did not pass out!"

"Fine, fainted. Don't shout, your voice gets all high and you sound like a harpy."

Barachiel blushes and waves his jar around, "I do not sound like a harpy and I did not faint!"

Dude, he totally sounded like a harpy.

"All I'm saying is that if you wish to continue to discuss the incident at the gate without coming off as somewhat of a hypocrite..." Remiel trails off as Elle waves her lion at him and burbles something in angelic.

"That is so... not... the same... thing," Barachiel frowns fiercely into his jar as Remiel leans back in his chair and unhooks a pocket watch from his vest and silently hands it to Elle.

"I dunno," Emily turns from the stove. "It totally sounds like Remiel is right. You can't tease him for getting beat up if you sunk Atlantis."

"I did not sink it," Barachiel hissed, "Sure I was supposed to make it _not_ sink to begin with..."

Emily shakes her head and make a noise in the back of her throat and Dean is instantly reminded of his mother. That noise ended arguments, no questions. He wonders if it was a woman thing, except Cas can make that noise too. Barachiel falls silent as Remiel preens and Emily turns to scrape some bacon onto a plate, smack Barach's hands away from it, and then places it in front of Bobby.

"Thank you, darlin'," Bobby says and it's almost surreal how normal it all is.

"One more for breakfast?"

Dean blinks when he realizes that Emily is looking at him with a half smile on her face, along with everyone else in the kitchen staring at him, and it takes Cas shoving him forward a bit to snap out of it and walk into the kitchen. He can hear Sam and Gabriel laughing behind him and he's so going to get them for that later.

"Daddy!" Elle squeals, and brandishes the pocket watch at him. "Ticky!"

"Are you stealing peoples watches, baby girl?" he kisses the top of Elle's head.

Bobby chuckles from over a fork full of bacon. "She'll be stealing credit-cards in no time."

Dean can't help but give off a sound that's more of a laugh than a snort.

"She absolutely will not," Cas protests at the same time Emily says, "Uncle Bobby," in a rather exasperated tone.

Dean smiles and then winces when Elle whacks the watch on the tray of her highchair a couple of times like an egg.

"She can't break it," Dean looks up at Remiel who's watching him with a small smile, "It's enchanted, if she manages to scratch it I'll be very impressed."

"Well..." Dean starts but then he catches sight of the whirling hands on the watch face, spiraling too quickly, like sand through a sieve.

The face Remiel makes only hints at the barest sign of discomfort or embarrassment, if he hadn't had years of watching Cas he'd never have caught it. But Remiel's fingers reach out and click the watch closed despite the grumbling noise that Elle makes.

"It..." Remiel clears his throat. "It doesn't keep Earth time."

Oh... That is... That is incredibly freaky and he doesn't need to think about someone checking their watch to see the time in hell, because who the fuck would want to know that? Remiel is going to say something, something that Dean is going to react badly to because this is too happy, too much like having a real family and Dean can't... Forty Years...He can't...

"Dean!" He blinks when Bobby yells at him, "Get the phone before you do something stupid, ya idjit."

Dean blinks and then shakes the look he has off his face because he's a fucking idiot and he almost... He spares a look for Cas who has come up behind Elle and is brushing her hair off her face as he crosses the kitchen to Bobby's six phones and picks up the one that has 'Home' taped across it. He's expecting a hunter or Rufus or maybe Emily's mom calling again. He could handle that.

What he can't handle is a sort of panicked and far too sober sounding Prophet of the Lord.

"Hello? Shit, please let this be the right number..."

"Chuck?" Dean keeps his voice low, although he sees Cas lift his head, sees the small frown he gives him.

"Dean! Um, I know I'm probably not supposed to call, but I think... Maybe this can... Shit Dean, get out of there. None of these visions make sense anymore, you have to get Elle and get out of there. It's breakfast right? She'll drop the watch and Remiel will smile and they'll come and you have to..."

Dean drops the phone at the same time that Elle loses her grip on the pocket watch. He sees it spiral in the sunlight as it bounces across the kitchen floor and Elle turns in her seat to watch it. Remiel smiles and Barachiel laughs as Cas bends to pick it up. It's all happening so slowly and Dean blinks once at the phone that's swaying back and forth on it's cord and...

Elle starts crying.

That same ear splitting, shrieking wail from the motel and Sam is sitting up in alarm as Gabriel scrambles to his feet. Cas pulls Elle out of her chair as Remiel practically spins out of his because something... There's something clouding up the sky, darkening the windows, Barachiel jumps off the counter as Emily takes a step back. There's a sharp sound from the direction of the panic room, like Anna yelling. Bobby is shouting at him and he's halfway across the kitchen towards Cas and Elle when the entire house starts shaking.

He can't tell what's coming to rip them apart. Heaven or hell. Feels like both.


	10. Chapter Nine: “Achilles Last Stand”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heaven and hell break loose and the Winchesters can no longer hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is the first "new" chapter. This one has been ready since 2011ish. Whoops? 
> 
> All of this was written around the end of season 5, start of season 6.

Chapter Nine: “Achilles Last Stand”

“ _If we don't end war, war will end us.”_ \- HG Wells

Gabriel is barking orders before he even knows what's going on. But no one is _moving_ and that's the shit that gets you killed. He knows it's his brothers. He can feel the surge of grace splitting the sky open and rolling towards them. What he can't figure out is why there's so _many_. There aren't enough vessels on Earth to...

"Gabriel?" He turns as Castiel comes up next to him.

Barachiel and Remiel are trying to scout before they're overwhelmed. He sent Dean down to the panic room with Emily and Elle. Bobby is very quickly undoing the lock on his weapons cache and handing things to Sam.

"Can you teleport out of here, Cas?" He breathes, watching what looks to be a storm gathering on the horizon.

The house is still vibrating, low and menacing and he doesn't have to look at his fledgling to know that he's shaking his head.

"Something is trapping us in here. Crowley is also trapped."

"Interesting," Gabriel frowns.

"Gabriel," and he can feel the fear coming off of Castiel, "Gabriel, what are we going to do?"

Gabriel swallows, because it's too late to run. They were too complacent. Too trusting that someone wouldn't eventually rain fire down on their heads. Now they were going to pay the price and so help him it wasn't going to be Castiel or Elle. He reaches into a place he hasn't touched for years, skirting the dull brass of a trumpet he'd forgotten existed, and wraps his fingers around familiar leather. It's with a ripple that he pulls his blade into the material plane. It's bigger than the one he gave Sam, the balance would have been all off for him. But it still gleams like starlight, a curved khopesh that hasn't seen bloodshed since the First war.

"Well, first we find out what they want," He starts as Dean comes thumping up the stairs with Anna behind him at the same time that Barachiel comes in the front door. "And then we don't let them have it."

Sam is terrified. They weren't prepared for this and he knows it's not going to be good when he sees Gabriel pull his sword out. The proper sword, not the cute little off hand that he lets Sam use. But still... Remiel stands in the doorway as Barachiel is reporting that the number of angels out there is ridiculously high but so far they've stopped at the wards. Sam can see them now, row after row of men and women, finely dressed and blank faced. 

"Okay," Sam looks up as Gabriel starts talking, "Here's the deal. We can't teleport out of here. So we're stuck until we figure out what the hell is going on. Good chance is that they're holding sigils that are keeping us in. A worse theory is that they're using our own wards against us. Which means we can't get out unless we give them a way in, otherwise known as the world's shittiest siege."

"Great," Dean hisses as he checks the colt.

Gabriel shuts his eyes for a second and Sam knows it for the gesture it is. Gabriel's just as scared as the rest of them. He doesn't know if that's comforting or...

"Barach, Rem, you two stay together, if they break through the wards we're gonna have to set up a perimeter as quickly as possible. Anna, you're with me. Cas, stay in the house, you, Dean, Sam, and Bobby are the second line of defense. As soon as we can get out of here, we will."

There are nods all around even though Sam is expecting Dean to bitch, because he always bitches but then again they hadn't though it was going to get this bad this fast.

Anna is talking to Castiel as Sam makes his way past them... "As soon as we've got an opening, get to the panic room. Crowley will have Elle and Emily out of here faster than anything..."

Gabriel is peering through the front window, and his entire body is a tight line of coiled energy. Sam can't help but remember the Mystery Spot, the raging desperation hidden the features of a creature that Sam couldn't even fathom at the time. He looks over as Sam approaches and in an instant is holding his other sword out to him. Sam's sword. Their fingers brush when he takes it and it's all Sam can do to whisper, "Don't do anything stupid."

Gabriel grins at him, "Aren't I supposed to be telling you that? You're the one with the lousy track record."

"I dunno," Sam smiles back. "I've read some stories about Loki."

Gabriel winces like Sam has wounded him with his words before rolling his eyes. "Thor and I only dressed up like women that _one_ time."

"Really?" Sam deadpans, getting the expected 'okay, maybe more than once' shrug out of Gabriel before the angel turns and lets out a breath.

"Gabriel," Sam breathes because shit, this is his _mate_ and they might not even get to...

"Look, don't give me that look," Gabriel growls. "This isn't some historical romance movie on Lifetime. Just don't die. I will be fucking pissed, you hear me?"

Sam sighs but he smiles. "I love you too."

The look on Gabriel's face turns from exasperation to joy to... "Ah, fuck it."

Before Sam can register what's going on Gabriel has his hand behind his neck, sliding across his mark, and pulls him down to kiss him.

It's love and fear and promises. Promises that Gabriel was not going to break.

Sam is breathless when the archangel finally breaks the kiss, muttering, "So pissed..." against Sam's lips before he and Anna are headed to the door.

The house is silent for a long time before Dean clears his throat, "Dude."

Sam just rolls his eyes and glares at his brother, "Like you have any room to talk."

***

Anna is trying to not bite her lip or fidget. She's got to remember she's an angel. A garrison leader. Gabriel is on her left and Barachiel is on her right, along with Remiel. It's been years since she's stood with her brothers. Years since they've fought for something worth fighting for. She and Crowley had both known something would happen, she could see the shadows in Crowley's eyes. A demon that had spent so long running was staying here. For her. Caught up in all her family shit. She wasn't going to let him do that for nothing. She wasn't going to let her mate lose everything for her again. She grips the sword that she'd taken from Bobby. Hers was where it belonged.

The others just stand there, motionless pawns and she can't tell what's keeping them from teleporting until...

"Laiad teloch," Remiel breathes and then she sees it.

The brands that each angel outside the wards is bearing. On their arm or neck or face. Only Michael had access to the text that allowed that. But who knew what he'd let Zachariah do in his apathy.

Gabriel curses, "You're right. They're using the dead as vessels. It shouldn't be too hard to knock them out of them."

"But there's so many," Anna breathes and hears Barachiel 'hmm' deep in his throat.

"That there," Barachiel frowns, "That's not teloch, that's different."

Anna tracks to where he's nodded, frowns until her grace focuses on what she's seeing.

"They've got the wards to trap us on their own skin." Remiel hisses and Anna feels her heart drop.

She feels Gabriel stiffen beside her before he takes a deep breath. "Maybe they'll want to talk things out."

Remiel laughs and Anna looks up as the sky suddenly crackles with electricity.

"Can an archangel break the wards?" She asks as lightning streaks towards the ground in front of them.

The last thing she hears Gabriel say is, "Yes."

***

Emily is shaking, she doesn't know exactly what's going on. She knows about the apocalypse and angels and devils but she doesn't know why. They gave her Elle which she doesn't think is a very good idea, oh God. The poor little thing is whimpering against her and it's all she can do to hush her and rock her back and forth.

They've locked her in a room with a demon which is pretty much the best reason for hysterical panic but she's got the baby to think about and so far the demon hasn't well... done anything to her.

He'd whispered to the red headed woman that had come out of the room with him and she'd watched them kiss. She thinks her name is Anna and she's almost sure she's an angel but there's another story there that she's missed. Now the demon, she doesn't know his name, oh God, is sitting on the cot in the room, stony faced and tearing the pillowcase into strips with the kind of focus reserved for brain surgery and making Croquembouche.

He's got a sword across his lap, something bright and shining that bounces light all over the room. She watches him pick it up with a corner of the blanket and very carefully wrap the strips of pillowcase around its handle. She watches him flip it once in the air before catching it by its covered handle, testing the weight of it. Like it's something new, something he hasn't quite gotten the hang of.

All at once he stands and she flinches and the baby whimpers. He tilts his head and looks at her, like he wasn't aware she was in the room at all. Emily swallows, his eyes are brown. His suit is torn and he starts pacing in front of the door, flipping the blade in his hand. He takes care to keep a wide berth from her and it takes her a minute to realize that Elle's gone quiet. She's sucking on her lion and watching him pace. They both are.

She's trying to find her courage, to dig up something to say, because she didn't used to be like this. She didn't take shit from anyone, she was strong and confident. She was strong and confident in a world full of humans. She wasn't quite sure what she was now. With angels upstairs and a demon pacing back and forth in front of her like a caged animal.

A low rumble shakes the room and they all freeze staring up at the ceiling.

"Can they get through that door?" Emily whispers.

"Knowing my luck, yes." The demon says conversationally and she didn't know there were British demons.

Another rumble and that can't mean anything good. She saw how many people were outside before Bobby grabbed her and dragged her out of the kitchen. They're going to die. She's going to die in the scariest basement she's ever seen with a demon and a baby. Oh god.

She swallows again and isn't sure if she should say anything but... "What's your name?"

The look he gives her is something strange but he smiles, like a villain with a twirly mustache and it makes something in her settle.

"Crowley," He says, and she nods because she at least wants to know who she's gonna be dying with.

"What am I supposed to do?" She asks because no one told her. They just handed her a crying baby and pushed her down stairs telling her that the _demon_ down there was on their side.

"You just stay in your corner," he says which sounds like the smartest thing she's heard all year. "Just stay there and hang onto that little one."

Okay, she could do that.

***

Dean's forcing himself into tunnel vision, into pure hunter mode. He has to. If he even thinks for a moment about how much he has to lose...

"I should have sent you both away," Cas whispers softly, hand tight around his blade.

Dean bares his teeth. "Shut up. Don't even say that," he hisses. "Just... don't fucking die. You're not allowed."

The sound of lightning striking splits the air and Dean can feel the wards shattering. He's felt this power before. Cas inhales sharply and says the last thing Dean wants to hear.

"Raphael has come."

_Fuck_.

They have seven whole seconds before Dean loses sight of Gabriel and the others outside, before there are hands and faces shoved against the windows, breaking through the glass, splintering the front door. There's no way they can hold their ground when push comes to shove. The colt runs out of bullets before Dean can even fathom a break in the crowd in front of him. Castiel's holding his ground, while Dean sees Sam get shoved up the stairs as he keeps slashing. The angels are falling, easy to take out but there's just so many.

Dean loses sight of Bobby as he uses a discarded angel sword to take out two in front of him. He sees Cas go down for a minute, a minute too long, they're getting past, heading down to the panic room.

There's an explosion of light outside, something that takes out the rest of the windows and the angels are screaming. Dean spots Castiel pushing his way out of a pile of abandoned vessels and the house is silent for a brief moment.

"The hell was that?" Dean yells, spotting Bobby with blood on his face but still moving.

"Gabriel got angry." Cas frowns.

Shit, Sam, he's a step from going up the stairs when he hears the sounds of fighting coming from downstairs. No.

Gabriel only bought them time.

Dean doesn't get the chance to go anywhere before the sound of feet are tearing across the porch.

***

Sam is scrambling backwards, up the stairs, there’s nowhere else to go. He can hear Dean yelling and… There’s too many. If there’s this many in the house already, how the hell many are there outside? Gabriel’s blade cuts through them like butter but it seems like for every angel he takes down there are two in its place.

Retreat would be the best option, if he had that option. There are hands on him, tearing at his shirt, trying to drag him back down the stairs. He thinks he slices a throat open before he twists and skids out into the bare open of the upstairs hallway. That’s before he gets slammed by the wave of angels that followed him and thrown through an open door.

Sam lays on the floor panting and wonders why he’s not getting torn apart. He lifts his head and swallows. The angels are crowded in the doorway, blank eyes and fury twisted faces.

But they aren’t crossing the threshold. They’re just standing there and…

His eyes trail up to the intricate symbols carved above the door, trailing their way down along the wood.

He’s in Dean and Cas’ room.

And apparently Cas warded the shit out of it.

***

Crowley is silent. Everything he planned for is lost. Because of Anna. Because he was weak and he chose her. He should have left. Hid like he said he was going to. She would have let him. She would have probably forgiven him. But he knew the second he saw Jhudiel that it was too late. Too late for him. He was already in this shit. Winchesters. He should have known.

There's a thud against the door, then a pounding.

He can hear the baby whimpering and the jittery frightened breaths of the girl. He doesn't know why Anna left him down here with them. He should be by her side if anywhere, but she'd given him those moon eyes.

They're going to be the death of him.

The metal creaks in front of him.

A long squealing peal rings through the air before it buckles. He sees a face he doesn't recognize and he slams his blade through it's forehead. The door is hanging on by it's hinges now as angels try to jam their way through. There's too many, the door frame buckles as Crowley stands his ground.

The girl screams when they break upon him like waves upon a shore.

***

Castiel can barely keep track of Dean in the chaos. He knows that Robert has fallen back to the kitchen, he can still hear guns firing and the familiar growling curses. He can barely sense Sam upstairs, still alive along with Gabriel and the other outside. The vessels his brothers inhabit are easy to destroy but their sheer numbers are tearing the house apart at its foundations. Castiel tries to not calculate how long they can hold against them. He tries to have faith. Another group goes down with Dean in the center of them. All Castiel can hear are the sounds of feet and the bright whooshing thrum when they destroy yet another of his brothers.

Then he hears it, Elle's sharp piercing wail.

The angels have breached the panic room. He's moving before he knows it, trying to gain some sort of ground for... A burst of color among burial clothes, red flannel and he sees Emily. She's still curled around Elle, screaming and trying to jerk away from the dozens of hands pulling her up, out of the stairwell. They're passing her along like communion at church. But they aren't hurting her.

Castiel's stomach drops when he realizes they're trying to take them out of the house. They're trying to _take_ Elle.

He surges forward, tearing the angels off her when there are dozens of hands on him, twisting him down and away, pulling him into the swarm. He hears Dean shout and for a moment everything is dark, smothering. Then an angel falls, then another, and before he knows it the only hands on him are Dean's. Dean's face is bloody and his left arm is hanging limply at his side. Castiel feels the terror and the grief roll off him even before he looks up.

Emily is gone, and Raphael is holding Elle.

It only takes a moment for the air around Raphael to shiver and Dean to scream, "Go after her!"

Castiel does the only thing he can, he _chooses_.

He leaves his blade with Dean and flies through the darkness after his daughter.

***

Sam stumbles as the entire house creaks and he feels the floor tilt. The angels in the hallway are suddenly thundering away, following something. For a single second Sam thinks it might be over, but then the window behind him shatters. The entire room warps around him and he sees the wards shimmer before the wood they're written on warp and crack. Angels stream in through the window, grabbing at his limbs, clothes, hair, anything they can get a hold of and he can't keep a grip on Gabriel's sword.

He sees the sword spiral through the air, headed to the ground as the world blurs around him and goes dark.

***

Gabriel knows the instant Sam lets go of his sword. His wings are out on instinct before he's even thinking about it, tossing angels away like paper dolls. He spots Sam in a swarm of them, off the ground and being dragged away. Fucking flying monkeys... With a thought Gabriel has both his swords in hand as he turns and shouts at Anna to fall back. He lost sight of Barach and Rem after the wards came down and he can only hope that they're holding their own.

He sees it in Anna's eyes, the shock and then acceptance as she turns, running through the clear path that his wings made. Trying to get back to the house before...

Before Gabriel unleashes a hurricane and shoots off after his mate.

***

Dean can barely see through the blood in his eyes. Even with Cas' sword it's damn near impossible to guard. His arm fucking hurts from where someone tried to drag it out of it's socket and he's got a dozen scratches and bruises. The numbers are thinning though. A shit ton took off after Cas and he could almost see the sky again out the windows. He holds his breath and slashes out again and again. Cas will get Elle. He'll do everything he can. Dean just has to do the same. He's spotted Emily, holding her head, under a bookcase, thankfully not getting trampled. If he can work his way to her and then drag both of their asses to where Bobby is...

Something knocks his feet out from under him.

It's a woman in a black dress and the first thing Dean notices is the fire in her eyes. Great, this wasn't some mindless drone angel like the rest of them. He rolls away as her fist slams into the floor by his head. The house shudders and he hears the squeal of wood rubbing against wood. He tries to scramble towards the kitchen as suddenly all the angels start to scatter, shooting out of the house and blacking out the sky.

He can't see and he gets shoved forward into the kitchen before he feels a hand like steel wrap around his knee. He gets dragged back about a foot and then feels the crack before pain tears up his leg and makes him choke. Shit. He squeezes his eyes closed and tries to breathe, because if he blacks out, it's over.

He slams into the ground, tossed onto his back like he weighs two pounds and through the spots in his vision he sees the angel bitch take a step towards him. Her face is blank. Unsmiling. She grabs the front of his shirt and then... Her eyes light up.

Dean blinks as she screams and topples to the side.

He's still blinking when he figures out that Emily is standing above him, her eyes wide and terrified.

She's holding Death's blade.

Dean thinks he chokes out a 'good job' before she falls to her knees next to him, babbling.

"Oh God, you're bleeding everywhere."

"'S not that bad..." He slurs as she helps him sit up, because really, it's the broken knee that's the problem.

He can hear her calling for Bobby and then, everything goes silent. There's a figure in the front doorway. A huge angel with white blonde hair and an immaculate suit.

"Dean Winchester," he greets. "You're becoming something of a handful."

He crosses the room and as he looks down at the pair of them his smile fades. His face became something sharp and furious. Anger that Dean hasn't even seen in the devil coming off him in waves.

"Move," he hisses at Emily and Dean swallows as she... shit, she's terrified, shakes her head.

The next moment happens so fast it blurs. Dean sees Bobby come out of the kitchen holding a shotgun, bloody and missing his hat. Just as the angel grabs Emily and tosses her away like a rag doll. Bobby shouts and the gun goes off. Before Dean knows it the angel is on Bobby and Dean is scrambling to find Cas' sword or Death's blade or _anything_...

***

Anna stumbles back as she hears glass breaking, the angels on her side of the house have taken to the sky but she isn't so sure about Barachiel and Remiel's side. She's halfway on the porch when she freezes. Dean is hurt, frantically trying to grab a blade he can't reach and Jhudiel...

_Jhudiel_. 

She's through the air in a second, tearing the angel off of Bobby and sending both of them rolling around the living room, snarling and slashing at each other like animals. She's going to rip his throat out. He's trying to break her wrist but she sinks her fingers into his shoulder and he growls. She shoves her borrowed sword through his side as he tries to throw her off. He's got his hand around her throat and she sees his sword come down.

But the flash of metal doesn't belong to him. The left side of his face splits open, and Jhudiel is screaming, light running out like a waterfall as he stumbles back. Crowley is pulling her to her feet. He's covered in blood but he still has her sword.

Jhudiel screams in Enochian and the entire house starts to shake violently.

"That's a kill order!" Anna yells and Crowley is dragging her behind him as Bobby stumbles to his feet and they're all trying to gather up Dean. Trying to get somewhere safe.

\--

Barachiel is panting as the angels suddenly rise up into the sky and he sees Remiel, blinking on his hands and knees. Right as he sees Emily in a heap out on the porch. An angel is over her and Barachiel hears her scream just as he lets loose his spear and kills the bloody thing. Remiel gives him the sign to go and then he's on the porch, scooping Emily up and trying to get a bead on the others when the air hums and presses in around him.

He hears Emily gasp against him as the angels tear out of the sky, and he breathes, "Bloody hell."

They tear the roof off in a cyclone of shingles and nails but before they hit the porch Rem is there. A ringing chime reverberates through the air as he slams his wings out and drags Barachiel and Emily to the ground wrapping his wings around them. Barachiel doesn't know what's happening but he holds onto Emily as best he can and curls against Remiel. He prays.

***

Dean groans as Crowley and Bobby drop him in a heap in the laundry room. Anna is dragging the washer free and shoving it up against the door as Bobby shouts. "Emily and Sam are still out there!"

"So are Barach and Rem!" Anna shouts back as she presses herself up against the washer as the house shudders and creaks around them, "What do you want to do about it!?"

Dean recognizes when Bobby is about to lay down the law but that's when hands burst through the laundry room door and grab Anna's hair. She gets hauled halfway out before Crowley grabs her waist, swearing and dropping his sword. But then there are hands on Crowley and Bobby grabs him as his feet leave the floor. Dean lurches forward to grab Bobby's belt with his good arm as the doorway shudders and splinters.

He wants to laugh because this is... It isn't real. The house is gonna come down around them and he doesn't know where Sam is. He doesn't know what they'll do to Elle, he doesn't want to think about it... At least Cas got out. At least.

Dean prays.

The door shatters and Dean closes his eyes.

***

Emily knows she's crying, sobbing like a little girl into the T-shirt of this _angel_ she doesn't even know. But they're being knocked around outside like a soccer ball and she can hear _breaking_... Then... Then it all goes quiet. It's silent. Not like when that man, that _thing_ came into the house. She can hear Barachiel panting and a moment passes before there's a 'thud' and it all gets bright. Remiel is laying on his back next to them dazed and breathing heavily.

There's no one in the yard. Just mud and cars. No bodies, no blood.

"What in the bloody hell just happened?" Barachiel says as he sits up.

"I don't know," Remiel pants, "but I'll take it."

Emily giggles, it's a bit hysterical but... But she's not dead. She doesn't know where her glasses are or where everyone else is but...

She tugs on Barachiel's sleeve as she squints, there's a figure standing at the gate that she can't quite make out.

\--

Anna yelps as all of a sudden the hands on her are gone and she's falling. Crowley lands on top of her as they tumble out of the laundry room and she blinks up at the new skylight the kitchen is sporting. Along with it's two and a half walls. The angels are gone. It's quiet except for the creaking of the house and after a moment Crowley lifts his head and she smiles. He looks at her like she's gone completely daft and just as he opens his mouth she surges up and kisses him. It's really the only way to shut him up. She stops when someone clears their throat above her.

It's a man in a cream colored suit with golden hair and blue eyes. Her grace clenches as he tilts his head at her. "Anael, why are you kissing a demon?"

"Michael?" She breathes and feels Crowley stiffen from where he was getting up.

A noise comes from what's left of the living room and standing there, with Barachiel and Remiel and Emily is... Lucifer.

He just looks at Michael and crosses his arms. "See, I told you they'd be fine."

From the laundry room she hears Bobby say, "Son of a bitch."

She can get behind that.

***

Dean knows he’s gawking with the rest of them as Michael apologizes for not coming sooner. He sounds like he was late for a meeting or something. Everyone freezes when the house creaks around them and Dean watches Michael take a step forward, lay his hand on the door frame and exhale.

It’s like watching a movie backwards. The house shudders and warps, things slide back into place, splinters of wood reform into walls, doors, and glass shards slide back into window frames and ripple together. The house creaks as it settles, it looks like nothing happened. Even the breakfast plates are back on the table. 

Any other day and Dean just might laugh.

Right now he's not capable of doing much more than sitting half propped up against a cabinet. His arm is useless, he's sure his knee is worse than he thinks, and his whole world is gone. He stares at Michael. Waits. Because it's not this easy. It can't be. Actually... it wasn't really that easy at all.

"You're a little late," Dean finally croaks out. Five minutes ago Dean would have said yes. If it saved everyone. Now all he can do is stare at the archangel, in a perfectly fine looking vessel damn it, who was supposed to... The one who was supposed to be dealing with all this shit in the first place and...

Dean sees it when Michael looks up, the same hollow regret he saw in the mirror every day. Before Cas. Before Elle... Dean looks up at Lucifer, the Devil, talking with Remiel and standing half in and half out of the front door like he’s trying to not bolt.

“We are attempting a compromise,” Michael breathes, low like he can’t quite believe it himself, as he reaches out and grips Dean’s shoulder.

The pain slides out of Dean, more aches and pains than he was aware of easing under the archangel’s touch. There’s a part of him that wants to tell him off, that wants to tell him to get his goddamned hands off him. But that part is small, so small in the face of how badly he wants his mate and his little girl back. 

He can hear Anna and Bobby talking. Elle is gone, Cas went after her... Gabriel went after Sam... Oh fuck, they took Sam. They had Sam and Elle and... Dean thinks he might be hyperventilating. But Michael is there, kneeling, and pushing him up against the cupboard before he slides to the floor. He knows the archangel is saying something, low whispers that aren’t in English. A long chain of syllables that Dean thinks might be a prayer.

“They’re gone,” Dean chokes, “They’re gone...”

“And we’ll get them back.”

Dean thinks he laughs, something high and frantic, how the hell can he just show up and say things like that? Where was he when... When they needed him?

“I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, Dean swallows and he remembers what Barachiel said. Michael didn’t know. Dean’s been down here dealing with this shit for years now and what the hell would it have been like if he’d been like everyone else? Oblivious, apathetic, when he could have done something about it? He can’t imagine what Michael is going through, what he’s gonna have to fix. Dean’s not sure he cares. He just needs to fix this, right now-

“Michael!”

Dean blinks, because Lucifer is rushing out of the doorway as Michael’s head snaps up. Lucifer sounded... frantic. Worried. Dean scrambles off the floor as Michael moves to the front door. This isn’t good. This can’t be good. 

***

Lucifer tries his best to not look worried, or interested really. This tentative alliance he has with Michael is hinging on him not doing anything rash. _“Please Lucifer don’t do anything, please, they’re family...”_ Remiel is bringing him up to speed on the utterly desperate attack that Zachariah has launched against the household while the righteous man has a breakdown in the corner.

Zachariah has kidnapped the fledgling. It’s only a matter of time now before they kill him and end this farce of an apocalypse that they have all been dragged into. The humans are staring at him with open hostility. All but Remiel’s girl, but they haven’t been introduced yet. He doesn’t like it. He turns towards the door, he doesn’t want to be dragged into the house, if they don’t want him here he’ll gladly leave.

There’s a hum in the air, the sound of wings and Lucifer turns his head in time to see Castiel. Castiel on the ground curled around... It takes Lucifer longer than he would have liked to recognize his brother. Gabriel’s grace is always brilliant. Bright. Now it isn’t much of anything and... There’s blood _everywhere_.

He’s shouting for Michael before he even registers that he’s doing so. Rushing from the doorway and across the porch. Castiel’s head snaps up when he gets too close and there’s a moment of fear in his eyes before it turns to confusion as Michael appears in the doorway with a gasp.

They can’t get Castiel off Gabriel for a minute, the other angel shrieking when Michael tries to move him. But then Dean is there and Lucifer balks for a moment at how easily the human lifts and gathers Castiel to him. How easily Castiel allows it.

“Morningstar!” Michael hisses and he turns back to the mess that is his brother.

Michael is healing him as fast as he can but it isn’t enough Lucifer can feel the edges of his brother’s grace slip away. It would be so easy to... Lucifer reaches, digging his grace into Gabriel’s, pulling him back, keeping him in place while Michael works. It takes more than a moment and they’re all bloody when it’s done.

Then Gabriel keens, a high blinding noise of life that turns to grief and in it Lucifer can hear the word, _Sam_. He doesn’t stop until Michael pushes him into sleep. Sam. What? Sam?

“His mate,” Dean says and his eyes burn as Lucifer realizes that he said that out loud. “My brother. _His mate_.”

His mate. Gabriel mated... There’s a ripple of jealousy. Gabriel always did like to lay his sticky fingers all over everything that wasn’t his. But besides him Michael sighs and Lucifer’s eyes stray to the edges of the dark tattoos that hide under the sleeves of his shirt. Michael bound him in this vessel. He couldn’t possess the human even if the creature begged him to. Sam Winchester means nothing to him anymore. No. His eyes stray to Gabriel. Not nothing.

“What happened?” Lucifer says, his voice has gone dark and low.

“It was a trap,” Castiel breathes. “They knew we’d come. The place, a fort or a bunker, it’s shielded. We couldn’t get to them. We couldn’t get past the barrier. There’s an army. Angels and demons, and we couldn’t get to them.”

“An army took out Gabriel?” Lucifer frowned because that didn’t sound right. Angels and demons couldn’t have done this to his brother.

“No,” Castiel swallows. “War.”

Lucifer remembers how he raised War. The exact symbols and the shade of blood that flowed from the cup. Michael rises, scooping Gabriel up with him.

“Morningstar?” He asks and Lucifer growls.

“Take him inside.”

Michael leaves and Dean gets Castiel moving. _It’s not your fault_ , Dean breathes to Castiel... to his mate. He’s right. Lucifer is left alone, to contemplate, to stare at the sheen of his brother’s blood on his hands.

“Remiel,” Lucifer speaks as the sun begins to wane.

“Yes, my lord.” The Fallen rises from the porch. Where Barachiel is slumped in exhaustion under the Fallen’s coat. Lucifer spares a moment for them. They are a reminder. Gabriel is a reminder, and Castiel who used to be so small.

“How many demons are still loyal to me?”

“Several hundred,” Remiel replies. “And there is a large number that went into hiding. They follow Crowley.”

Lucifer smiles, “Take Crowley. Gather them. Gather all of them.” 

***

The first thing they do is cut off Gabriel's mark.

"Naughty Gabriel, leaving fingerprints on things that don't belong to him," the angel breathes into his ear.

Sam's teeth are clenched against the pain and the horrifying sense of violation. "Go to hell," he grits out. His skin where the mark is slick with blood. He almost hopes they forget and let him bleed out.

The angel laughs. "I sincerely doubt it, Samuel." He pats Sam's cheek with the flat of the blade. "Look at you, getting blood all over the place. Such horrible manners."

The skinned spot burns for a moment then throbs dully.

"I won't say it," Sam hisses. "No matter what you do."

Fingers tighten in Sam's hair and jerk his head back. "I think you'll find that you'll be begging to say yes when I’m done with you." He leaves a bloody hand print sticky and wet across Sam's neck. A mockery.

"Jhudiel."

Sam struggles to focus his eyes, the angel, Jhudiel pulling his head to the side. He knows the voice. It’s Zachariah. Or what’s left of him. Burning eyes in a broken vessel that just looks... wrong. Gabriel wasn’t lying when he said he tried to kill the other angel. He moves slowly and unevenly. “You humans and your self professed willpower.”

His laugh is wet, sticky with desperation, as he raises a hand to Sam cheek and grins. “You’ll say yes. The plan will go through as _I_ saw it.”

“Never.” Sam breathes and the smell of rotting flesh is strong. An angel forced into a long dead vessel.

Jhudiel laughs again as Zachariah’s twisted hand falls to the side and he nods.

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Sam." Jhudiel leans in close, lips against Sam's ear. "You weren’t the only thing we stole.” The angel puts his hand on Sam's chest.

The hand pushes inside him. Sam screams over that wet laugh. It feels like Jhudiel is tearing apart his insides. It goes on and on and Sam's choking on his own saliva when he feels the thread of connection to Gabriel start to fray.

Everything turns into a jumble of pain and the taste of blood and laughter in his ears. The thread snaps. He passes out with the sound of Jhudiel’s laughter echoing in the room.

***

The fledgling is crying. The sound cuts Raphael like a knife and he follows the sound through the compound. Demons melt aside and he clenches his vessel's jaw, if Zachariah did not speak for Michael, he wouldn't tolerate any of this. One of the lowest ranking angels, wearing a female vessel, hesitatingly approaches him before he reaches the source of the sound.

"Lord Raphael?" the angel's vessel's voice is almost trembling. It... troubles him. There was a time when even the lowest ranking angel wouldn't fear him. Why would they fear their Father's Healer?

"Speak," he tells the angel... he should know this angel's name. Another troubling thing.

The vessel's eyes are focused on the ground. "The," there's a pause as if the angel is searching for the correct word, "child is injured. We have been forbidden to heal her."

"By whom?" he demands.

"Lord Zachariah and Lord Jhudiel," is the hushed answer. As if she fears punishment for speaking.

Raphael presses his vessel's lips into a thin line. "I will handle this. You serve our Father well by speaking to me of this. Now go back to your post."

"Thank you," she whispers and hurries off. An angel in a male vessel was watching from a distance and she hurries to him. His hand brushes the back of her neck.

A mated pair. Such things have been forbidden. Raphael finds he cannot find fault in two of his brethren finding a small measure of joy in these times.

He enters the room the wail is coming from and finds Mendel holding the fledgling. This isn't, though, the human child they'd taken from that traitorous fledgling of Gabriel's and the stubborn righteous man. It could be Castiel when he was first delivered into Gabriel's care, when he still wailed in fright at Michael. She's shadow and light but instead of wings of shadows her tiny wings are molten chrome, which is splattered all over the room. She wails, crying in Angelic and English for her fathers, for her uncles.

And "Uncle Sam" was the loudest of her cries as if she knew that Winchester was the nearest.

She cries like Castiel did the first time he had suffered a small hurt.

"She will not cease in crying," Mendel says in distress. There's such pain, heartbreak in the other angel's eyes. A healer forbidden to heal a charge he's been given. "Lord Zachariah bade me to keep her quiet after he brought her from Lucifer's vessel..."

Raphael raises a hand for silence. He trained Mendel in healing, so long ago, and the younger angel had never acclimated to the battlefield. "When did her form change? She was in the form of a human child when she was retrieved from the enemy garrisons compound."

Mendel smooths his hand over the shadows adoring the fledgling's head. "Shortly after she... sensed Lucifer's vessel. She has calmed some since."

"Give her to me," Raphael sighs. "I have dealt with a fledgling before and she has an injury that needs tending."

Mendel starts to speak but he holds his hand up again.

"I'm aware of what Zachariah has said. I am the Archangel of our Father, not he. Go now, there are those among our brothers that need your skills after today's battle."

Carefully and unsure, Mendel gives the fledgling over. "She's so tiny," he ventures. "And her grace is so bright."

Raphael closes his vessel's eyes for a moment. "Mendel." Fearful eyes are turned towards him. Raphael wonders when he went from the healer even the least of angels trusted to something to be feared. "Take your mates and go somewhere safe. Somewhere away from here."

"Lord Raphael..."

"You three have been lucky to keep it hidden as long as you have," he tells Mendel softly. "Leave this battlefield to come, either retreat to heaven or find a safe refuge here on earth."

Mendel glances towards the fledgling again. "Will she...?"

"I will not allow her to be needlessly hurt. This is all the promise I can give." He places a kiss of blessing on Mendel's forward. "Now go."

Mendel nods and with the sound of feathers is gone.

"What to do with you?" Raphael muses out loud, over the crying. "You cry as if to wake the dead, small one."

The fledgling hiccups, but keeps crying.

With a sigh, Raphael slips from his vessel and moves his wings around her. "Hush now. I have no intention to harm you." He cannot clearly see where she is injured in the form she's in now. She is clearly hurt, clearly in some pain, but the cause is not visible as she is now.

After a moment she hiccups again, falling silent. She sniffs and hiccups a few more times, before reaching out a tiny hand to his wings. "Wings like me," she says in their tongue.

"Not quite like yours," Raphael tells her.

Vivid blue eyes peer up at him. "Can we go fly?" There's some hopefulness in her tiny voice.

He thinks of Castiel, small and shrieking, before he remembers himself. "Later perhaps. I am called Raphael. Do you have a name?"

She blinks up at him and pats at his face then his wings again. "Elle," she chirps back to him.

"Hmm." It's not at all a proper name. Not that it matters, he reminds himself, this is an abomination. This is something that by their Father's laws cannot be. He slides back into his vessel, and she snuggles happily to his chest.

He could easily destroy her himself, but the order has yet to come from Michael. Elle's form shimmers then shifts, and he's left holding a human looking child. It's then he can see where she is hurt. There is a long scrape down one of her arms, still red and fresh. Raphael's jaw tightens. He knows who has done this. The fledgling might by all rights need to be destroyed but there was no reason to harm her. Michael would never order her to be given pain before her annihilation.

Raphael runs his finger tips over the scrape, healing it completely. "There that is better, isn't it, small one?"

She sniffs and nods her head. "Want Daddy. We go to daddy?"

"I suspect he will come for you soon. Both your fathers will." Dean Winchester will say yes to Michael, Lucifer will have his vessel, Castiel will be destroyed, the traitors would be punished. Michael will triumph over Lucifer as he should and Paradise will come. This was surely their Father's plan. Michael would not lead them astray.

***

Dean wakes up to the silence. He stares long and hard at the empty bed and crib. He pulls himself into a pair of jeans and a shirt, and he's putting on his boots when his fingers start shaking. When he goes down stairs nothing is going to be what it was yesterday morning. Dean takes breath to steady himself.

Cas could have least stuck around until he woke up. They’d spent what little of the night they had clinging to each other, not speaking. Cas had been a mess. Dean hadn’t been much better. Sam’s gone. Elle’s gone, and if they can’t get them back Dean thinks something in both him and Cas is going to break for good.

The living room is empty, he can hear Bobby on the phone in his study. He catches a glimpse of Emily sitting at his desk writing something furiously down as he opens books in front of her and talks to someone.

Michael and Lucifer are in the kitchen, papers spread out across the table, speaking low to each other with words the Dean can’t understand. The back door opens as he pauses and Remiel comes in with Barachiel on his heels. Barachiel says something to Michael as Remiel produces more paper, covered with unrecognizable symbols that he presents to Lucifer.

Dean makes his way out the front door and stops. Castiel is curled up on the front step, leaning against the railing. He’s watching Gabriel. Gabriel who is crouched out in the middle of the junkyard, barefoot in a circle of twisting runes. The archangel is hunched in on himself, motionless and still wearing his bloody clothes. He has one hand out in front of him, dug into the dirt and his other hand is pulled up, gripping the back of his own neck.

For a moment Dean is tempted to go to him. But he doesn’t know what he’ll say. He doesn’t know the exact specifics of what happened between Sam and Gabriel. Now there’s the small terror that he’ll never know. He looks down as Castiel reaches up to curl his hands in the cuff of Dean’s jeans and tug. Dean slides down to sit on the step, his arm coming up to pull Cas to him. Nothing feeling quite right until he’s got Cas tucked against him.

“What is he doing?” Dean whispers as Cas settles in his arms.

“Calling in every favor he’s owed,” Castiel murmurs. “They all are.”

Dean watches as two _huge_ ravens land in Gabriel’s circle, coming up to him in unison and bowing their heads. Gabriel lifts his hand from the dirt, turns it over in supplication and Dean isn’t sure what happens. But Gabriel curls his hand around something that Dean can’t see as the birds fly away, spiraling up into the sky.

He clutches Cas close as he watches the clouds track across the sky and birds come out of nowhere to land in Gabriel’s circle. The whole house was moving around him and he felt like he should be doing something to help to... Cas turns towards him and buries his face in Dean’s shoulder. He can feel his mate’s grief like a tangible thing. Cas needs him. 

Dean’s got his chin tucked on the top of Cas’ head when a little fat ball of something plops out of the sky and lands in Gabriel’s circle. Dean stiffens as Gabriel suddenly stands and turns, the circle of runes rippling around him before fading away as if it were never there.

Gabriel stops on the porch as Cas wiggles around in Dean’s arms to look at his brother. Gabriel is holding a sheaf of papers, some with wax seals on them and others with ribbon trailing off. Dean can make out that some have been typed and others have long spindly writing on them that he can barely make out. There’s a small array of feathers coming out of Gabriel’s pocket and perched on his shoulder is the tiniest owl Dean has ever seen.

He doesn’t say anything, not that Dean can understand but as he walks by them Cas stands and pulls Dean to his feet. He follows them into the kitchen where Michael sits and Lucifer paces behind him. Bobby is standing to the side handing over books that Michael seems to be flipping through before putting them in a neat stack by the table.

Anna and Crowley are sitting in a huddle on the floor by Michael’s feet, pouring over one of Bobby’s notebooks that they both seem to be adding text to one at a time. Remiel is talking to Lucifer, keeping up with the pacing as the devil nods and Remiel occasionally grabs a sheaf of parchment to present it to him from Barachiel who stands there with his arms full. Dean scans the room and sees Emily asleep with her head on Bobby’s desk, a blanket thrown over her.

Gabriel breaks the silence, “What are our numbers looking at?”

What? Dean looks from him to Anna who stands and says, “At least fifteen thousand demons.”

“Only about six hundred angels,” Remiel adds.

“And every hunter in the country,” Bobby says.

Gabriel lays all the papers he has on the kitchen table and carefully settles the owl on top of them. “Nearly all of the pagans have pledged their service. That means we’re only outnumbered two to one now. All we need is a plan.”

Dean gets it then. They’re gathering an army. A force strong enough to go against Zachariah. They’re bringing together everyone to fight, for Earth, for Elle. 

“The horsemen are going to be the larger problem if we can even get through the shield they have set up,” Michael frowns.

“We’ll get through the shield,” Remiel says and the whole kitchen turns to stare at him. “I’ve been going over the logistics of the attack. They took Sam, and Elle. They tried to take Dean. I believe that in some twisted way Zachariah is still trying to push the prophecy through. I think he means to trap Lucifer and Michael into their respective vessels. He doesn’t think they’ll question it when they’re called.”

Barachiel steps forward and slides all the papers onto the table as well, upsetting the owl who flap plops over to Michael. “I went back up to heaven for a bit, from what I gathered up there no one knows that Michael’s kipped off. Zachariah might not have expected him to actually come down here and check out his handy work. He didn’t expect someone to go up there and make a fuss.”

“His plan has failed before it succeeded,” Lucifer hisses.

“So Sam just has to say yes and...” Gabriel starts.

“Zachariah should let the shield down long enough for Lucifer to be let in,” Remiel says.

The grin that Lucifer has is downright terrifying, “So, that’s when we go. When Samuel gives the word.”

“What if Sam doesn’t say yes?” Dean asks because its Sam. Sam would never...

Gabriel turns to him and smiled tiredly, “That’s why they took Elle.” 

Oh, oh fuck. Dean thinks about it now. They wouldn’t even have to hurt her for Sam to... Just the thought of it turns his stomach. Slowly Dean nods.

“Which brings us back to the horsemen?” Michael frowns.

“Pestilence and Famine shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Crowley clears his throat, “Put the demons on one and the angels on the other. Should make for a merry tussle.”

“And Death?” Castiel ask, his eyes straying to the blade that sits in the empty fruit bowl.

“You can’t kill Death,” Lucifer smirks.

“But you can trick him,” Gabriel adds. “I just need enough time. Me and the Pagans should be able to keep him distracted long enough for someone to break the hold that Zachariah has over him. He shouldn’t care much for the fight after that.”

“I’ll be on that,” Remiel nods. “That leaves War.”

Dean doesn’t miss the way Gabriel shivers when he says it. The blood is still on Gabriel’s clothes and he remembers the blank shockey look Gabriel had before Michael put him back together.

“You leave War to me,” Michael breathes, and it sounds like the crackling start of a fire.

“So, is that it then?” Barachiel asks. “Anna and Crowley will lead the garrisons while me an’ human hunters come in around the edges, make sure nothing slips out to cause trouble later?”

Michael nods. “Dean and Castiel will accompany Morningstar through the wards.”

The devil makes a face but Gabriel shoots him a look, “Don’t give me that shit. you’re gonna be way too busy turning Zachariah into fingerpaint to look for Sam and Elle first thing.”

The looks fades off Lucifer’s face and settles into something that’s almost acknowledgement. 

“So, now we just wait?” Dean asks, because that sounds like a lot for them to ask him to do. That sounds like too much. He needs Sam and Elle back and what if Remiel’s logistics were wrong? What if Zachariah knew Michael was coming? 

“We don’t wait,” Gabriel says, low and dangerous. “We prepare.”

***

Sam's head lulls against his chest. "No," he whispers again.

Jhudiel keeps telling the story. Yes. They came to save you. Gabriel wasn’t expecting War. So much blood and how he screamed. War is still laughing about it. Jhudiel's fingers clenched in his hair, pulling his head back. "Thirsty?" he says into Sam's ear.

He clenches his jaw shut and tries to pull his head away. He's got to hold out. He's not saying yes. But his head won't stay up on its own anymore and he knows he can't get away.

"Don't make this hard, Sammy," Jhudiel tells him patting his cheek. Then the angel's fingers dig in, force his jaw open. "Open wide."

Blood is poured into his mouth again. Sam gags against it, fighting as much as he still can. It’s useless. Jhudiel's hand clamps over his mouth, forcing him to swallow. Tears leak from his eyes. "Good boy."

Sam's head falls forward unable to hold it up on his own. Jhudiel walks around him and pushing his chin up with the tip of his knife. "One little word, Sam. It's all we want from you. Just one little word."

Sam shakes his head. "No."

"Oh but we need a yes. All the pain would be over." The knife trails down to where Gabriel's mark once sat. "Your mate is gone. Your brother has abandoned you."

"No."

Jhudiel sighs and Sam hears the sharp familiar cry. His head snaps up. Elle.

"No, leave her alone," he rasps.

Raphael is holding her, patting her back as he leans in the doorway.

Jhudiel just smiles, dragging the knife away from Sam's skin. "What shall we do with you?" he asks, moving towards Raphael and Elle.

"Jhudiel," Raphael says firmly.

Sam struggles to hold his head up. "Elle, it’s okay. Won't let them hurt you."

A twisted smile graces Jhudiel's face. "You shouldn't exist should you?"

Elle whimpers and the knife moves towards her. She shrinks against Raphael's chest.

"Don't hurt her," Sam begs. "Please. She's just a baby."

Jhudiel turns. "Why should I, Samuel? Is there something you’re willing to barter?"

Sam can't breathe, can't think. All he can see is the knife too close his niece's face. Dean's baby girl. He's cost Dean so much... and Lucifer had promised... Lucifer would keep Elle safe...

_And for all he knows Gabriel is dead_.

"Swear you won't hurt her," Sam forces out.

Jhudiel moves the knife from Elle's skin. "And you'll say yes?"

"Swear it."

"I swear to my Father," Jhudiel promises. "She will come to no harm."

Sam closes his eyes. I'm sorry, Dean.

"Yes."

***

Dean watches as Bobby bundles Emily into his truck. He’s taking her home, which, shit, might not even be there for long if they mess this up. Remiel and Barachiel are standing in the driveway together watching the tail lights disappear off the road before they both shimmer out of existence. They’re going to get all the human hunters, teleport them when Michael gives the signal. Anna and Crowley have gone to round up all of the angels and demons they talked to this morning.

Gabriel is perched on the couch, petting the little owl and swinging his sword around in complicated patterns. He brought Dean the colt, along with a ridiculous amount of ammunition that Dean has no idea where he got it from. He’d said something about time travel and also handed Dean a thin blade that looked like it shouldn’t exist, like it was made of shadow and light. It sings when he turns it in his hand and from the way Cas looks at him when he has it, he thinks he knows where it came from.

Lucifer and Michael are still in the kitchen, bickering about something. Lucifer is alway angry, hissing and Michael talks to him with a hell of a lot more patience than Dean’s ever had. He’s been eying them all morning. Lucifer’s vessel is whole again, healed up and there’s color in his cheeks. He looks well, normal, like he could be a real person instead of something rotten inside someone else.

He knows that Michael made his own vessel, pulled it together from the very atoms of the Earth, something that Zachariah couldn’t have known he could do. That’s sort of the last and final sign that God left, at least to Dean. Why would he let Michael do something like that if he was gonna stick around? 

Dean is crossing the living room in order to tell Gabriel off for hogging the couch because he needs to do something besides clean the colt, again. When the devil suddenly freezes, eyes wide, and Dean feels sick. "Samuel has said yes."

Michael lets out a long breath as he stands, “Then we move.”


End file.
